Breaking Point
by Dani-Ellie03
Summary: Emma leaving town was out of the question, and that was perfectly fine with Regina. As a matter of fact, Emma absolutely must stay in Storybrooke for a long, long time. And she knew just how to accomplish that. Rated mostly for language.
1. Chapter One

**Title: **Breaking Point  
**Summary:** Emma leaving town was out of the question, and that was perfectly fine with Regina. As a matter of fact, Emma absolutely must stay in Storybrooke for a long, long time. And she knew just how to accomplish that.  
**Spoilers:** Up through 1x19, "The Return."  
**Characters:** Mostly Emma, Regina, and Mary Margaret, with special appearances by Henry, August, Archie, David, and Dr. Whale along the way.  
**Rating/Warning:** T, mostly for language.  
**Disclaimer:** _Once Upon a Time_ and its characters were created by Eddie Kitsis and Adam Horowitz and are owned by ABC. I'm just playing in someone else's sandbox. Please don't sue me! You won't get much.  
**Author's Note: **As with_ Harper's Island_ before it, I was most emphatically not going to write_ Once Upon a Time_ fic. And then hiatus happened. Mad props to ViciousCircle on the TWoP forums for suggesting the basic plot for this story and to Aliasscape for suggesting someone turn it into a fic. I took it as a challenge. My first time writing in a new fandom is always very nervous-making for me, so feedback is very much appreciated. Please tell me what I'm doing right and what I'm doing wrong. Enjoy!

* * *

_"I am taking back my son."_

One little sentence. A declaration of war.

Just who in the hell did Emma Swan think she was, threatening to take Henry from Regina Mills? Henry was _Regina's_ son, and there would be a blizzard that dumped three feet of snow on the ground of hell before she turned him over to Emma. To anyone else, either, but _especially_ to Emma.

Calm down. She needed to calm down. She needed to consider the situation from all sides, and she couldn't do that while she was seeing red.

Emma couldn't take Henry. She couldn't. She could try, and Regina had no doubt that she would try. But she wouldn't win. She had no idea what the rules really were, what the stakes really were, and Regina didn't exactly feel like sharing.

Still, she had to do something. She needed to think.

Step one: damage control.

She whipped out her cell phone and dialed the house. Henry answered on the third ring. She told him that she was going to be a little bit longer than anticipated and not to answer the phone or the door, no matter what.

"I'm serious, Henry," she said when the agreement he gave her was half-hearted.

"Okay," he said again, and this time his tone indicated that he was serious, too.

"Thank you. I'll be home as soon as I can." She said her good nights and disconnected the call.

Step one: semi-handled.

But now what? And how in the world had she let it get to this point?

From the moment that Emma Swan rolled into Storybrooke with Henry in tow, Regina had known on some level that this day was coming. Even that stupid yellow Bug of hers was a giant flashing neon clue. It was obnoxious and stuck out like a sore thumb – much like Emma herself.

It was also the first piece of real color that Storybrooke had ever seen. That right there had been Regina's first indication that things were never going to be the same again. Emma would bring change. Emma would bring destruction. Emma would bring Regina's downfall.

Regina had known all of that for a long time. So why had she ignored it?

If she was completely honest with herself, she'd done so at first because Emma Swan was fun. She was infuriating and set Regina's teeth on edge to the point that she wanted to repeatedly bang the woman's head against a wall, but she was _fun_. It had been a long time – too long, now that she thought about it – since she'd had someone go toe-to-toe with her and actually think they could win.

Emma's first attempts at one-upmanship were spectacularly amateur, although Regina did have to give her a begrudging point for taking the chainsaw to the apple tree. However, over time, she'd grown into quite the entertaining little adversary. She provided a good challenge, and Regina never met a challenge she didn't enjoy.

Then a more pressing issue had come up, namely that, despite all the obstacles she had thrown in their path, Snow and her Charming were finding each other again. And Regina could not have that, not at all. So she had shifted focus, set up Mary Margaret Blanchard for murder, and somehow in the process lost sight of playing with Emma Swan.

She'd also certainly underestimated the bond Emma and Mary Margaret had formed. Emma fighting like hell to get to the truth had come as a very unwelcome surprise.

A mistake, perhaps, but not a fatal one. No, it all could be salvaged. She just needed a plan.

So what could she do? It was far too late in the game to try once again to drive Emma out of Storybrooke for good. Too much had happened for that now. Like it or not (which, by the way, Regina didn't), Emma was here to stay.

Besides, the stupid townspeople liked her. She had wormed her way into their hearts and they actually _liked_ her.

It was disgusting.

But if Emma leaving town was out of the question …

Suddenly, light dawned. Emma leaving town _was_ out of the question, and that was perfectly fine with Regina. As a matter of fact, Emma absolutely must stay in Storybrooke for a long, long time. And she knew just how to accomplish that.

Oh, yes. Playing with Emma Swan was about to become a whole new level of fun.

* * *

The apartment door slammed, rattling the glass in the picture frames on the walls. Mary Margaret Blanchard winced then sighed. One of these days, she and Emma needed to have a sit-down discussion about the latter's tendency to stomp around like a petulant teenager.

One of these days but, considering the sound of that slam, not today. Emma didn't need a reprimand right now, gentle or otherwise. She needed a friend. Mary Margaret set her book down and headed out of her bedroom to see what was wrong.

She found her roommate pacing back and forth in front of the kitchen counter, her hands on her hips and pure, unadulterated anger glittering in her eyes. "Emma? What's the matter?"

Emma whirled on her heels, the fury on her face melting into total surprise. It seemed as if she'd forgotten that Mary Margaret would be at home now instead of in the cramped jail cell at the sheriff's station. "I'm sorry. For the door, I mean."

"Forget the door," Mary Margaret said, sending a silent apology to her neighbors for all the times Emma had likely slammed the door in her absence.

Emma had started pacing again. Mary Margaret watched her for a couple of revolutions but eventually had to look away. The constant back and forth motion was making her head spin. "Will you please sit down?"

"Can't."

"Then can you at least stand still? You're kind of giving me motion sickness."

"Sorry." Emma froze in place and gripped the edge of the counter to keep herself still.

"Thank you." Only then did she notice that Emma's hands were shaking. She'd never seen her roommate like this, and she'd seen her angry plenty of times. Sometimes it seemed as if Emma's default mood was angry. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

The look on Emma's face clearly indicated that what she really wanted to do was go throw things.

"Ice cubes in the bathtub."

Emma blinked as if coming out of a daydream. "Huh?"

"Go whip some ice cubes at the inside of the bathtub. You'll get the satisfying shattering sound without having to go buy new plates or having to clean up a mess."

A flicker of a smile played across Emma's lips. "You are the only person I know who would think of something like that."

Mary Margaret felt heat rising in her cheeks. And just what was wrong with throwing ice at the bathtub? Having to go out to the store to replace her dishes or glasses after she'd calmed down just made her upset all over again. "Yes, well, it got you to smile."

Emma nodded, conceding the point to her roommate. And now that she'd relieved a little bit of tension, she could actually talk about what happened instead of pacing the room and stewing over it. "Our favorite mayor got Sidney to confess to the frame job."

Mary Margaret's jaw dropped. "What?! How?"

"You don't want to know, trust me," Emma murmured with a hint of disgust. "It's total crap, of course, but I can't prove a damn thing."

Unable to keep still any longer, Emma stepped away from the counter. She let out a heavy breath and plopped down in a chair at the table.

Sensing that there was more to this story, Mary Margaret followed suit. Sidney Glass confessing to the frame job was both unfair – to everyone involved – and ridiculously frustrating but that alone couldn't account for Emma's rage.

Of course, Mary Margaret would have had an easier time climbing Mount Everest in flip-flops than she would trying to get Emma to open up about something if she wasn't ready to open up about it. The one sneaky little thing she had learned, though, was that she could give Emma gentle nudges in the right direction. "So, what, she just gets away with it? All of it?"

"Maybe, maybe not." Emma finally looked Mary Margaret in the eye. "There's more."

"I figured."

"I confronted her, told her I knew Sidney was lying and that she had put him up to it. She didn't really seem to care." Here she stopped and took a deep breath, which made Mary Margaret even more nervous. This was not going to be good; she could tell. "I was tired of her always being one step ahead of me and I couldn't bear the thought of Henry being in her house for even one more minute, so I said … I told her I was going to fight her for him."

Mary Margaret's eyebrows shot up to the ceiling. "You what?"

"I know," Emma groaned, wincing at the memory. "At the time I only said it because I was so mad. Because I wanted to hurt her–" Mary Margaret gave her a knowing look, and Emma rolled her eyes. "Okay, I wanted to piss her off. But now … I really think it's the right thing to do. I'm not perfect – pretty far from it – but I'm a hell of a lot better for him than she is."

"Of course you are," Mary Margaret assured her, "but have you had a chance to really think this through? Do you think you're ready? For any of it?"

"It's not about me right now, Mary Margaret. That kid – _my_ kid – is living with a sociopath. That is nowhere near okay."

Mary Margaret sat back in her chair, letting the events of Emma's evening settle. "We need some hot chocolate," she said after a beat of silence.

"We need some hot chocolate with a whole bunch of Kahlua dumped in," Emma corrected.

At that, Mary Margaret pushed herself to her feet. If Emma wanted Kahlua, then Kahlua she would have. She opened one of the cabinets, retrieved a bottle, and held it up for Emma to see. "Ask and you shall receive."

"You've been holding out on me," Emma teased.

"Again, teacher, not nun."

By the time the cocoa was ready and Mary Margaret had added a generous amount of the coffee liqueur to Emma's mug, Emma had calmed considerably. Her hands had stopped trembling and she no longer looked like she needed to wear a rut in the kitchen floor, at any rate.

Mary Margaret stuck a cinnamon stick in each mug before bringing them to the table. Emma grasped hers and mumbled a thank you but didn't take a sip. Not yet. Instead she began running her thumbs up and down the warm ceramic. "I shouldn't let her get to me like this."

"It's not necessarily a bad thing," Mary Margaret told her. "I mean, I worry for your blood pressure, but the fact that she gets to you like this only proves that you care."

Another ghost of a smile. "My blood pressure's fine, thanks." She finally sipped the cocoa, letting the warm chocolate linger on her tongue for a moment. Then the alcohol hit her taste buds and forced her to swallow the drink down with a cringe.

"Too strong?" asked Mary Margaret uncertainly. Mixing drinks was not exactly her forte.

"Yes, but after the night I had, it's perfect." Emma set her mug down and sat back in the chair. "I need a plan."

"Right this very second?"

"You can bet your ass she's thinking of a plan right now. And I should be thinking of one, too, but I don't have the first damn clue where to start."

Mary Margaret watched her for a long moment, trying to think of how to word what she wanted to say. Emma was so damn hard to reach sometimes. Certain things – like overt shows of emotion or support – had the tendency to shut her down completely. A byproduct of her upbringing, clearly, and Mary Margaret didn't begrudge her that, but it did make trying to let her know that people cared about her difficult as hell.

Finally, she picked up her mug and said in an almost offhanded tone, "You'll think of something. But if you do get stumped, don't forget that you're not alone. You have friends here, Emma, people who like you and would be more than willing to help … if you asked."

The tears sprang into Emma's eyes without warning but she reacted quickly, blinking them back before they could fall. She picked up her own mug – an action she was almost certainly hoping would distract Mary Margaret – and took another sip, most likely to give herself time to get her voice back under control before saying, "Thank you."


	2. Chapter Two

**Author's Note:** Thanks for the reviews and the alerts! They seriously make my little day. This chapter was ridiculously fun to write. Hope you all enjoy!

* * *

The sunlight peeking around the edges of the shades rudely pulled Emma from a restless slumber. She yanked the covers over her head with a groan. The action blocked out the light well enough but didn't do a damn thing for the headache throbbing behind her eyes.

Headache? Why the hell did she have a headache?

After a second, it all came rushing back. The confrontation with Regina at the sheriff's station, telling the mayor she was going to take Henry. The three mugs of Kahlua-laced cocoa she'd consumed when she got home. Mary Margaret, who would have been fired her first night as a bartender for giving away too much product in her drinks, helping her up the stairs to the loft and into bed.

She remembered Mary Margaret sitting with her. Remembered Mary Margaret telling her that everything would work out in that optimistic way of hers, the way that made Emma want to believe everything coming out of her mouth. And then … nothing.

She must have fallen asleep then. Or passed out. Whichever.

What the hell time was it? It was quiet in the apartment. Normally she heard Mary Margaret moving around downstairs, smelled breakfast cooking, but today, nothing. She pushed the covers off her face and squinted, bleary-eyed, at the bedside clock.

A sheet of white paper was propped up against the clock, blocking the face from view. Groaning again, Emma sat up and snatched the paper, almost knocking over a full glass of water in the process. The hell? Where had that come from?

The sheet of paper provided the answer. It was a note from Mary Margaret, which read, _Hey Emma, Didn't want to wake you. Not sure if you'll need the aspirin but you should drink the water regardless. See you later. _

Fourth-grade teacher that she was, she'd signed the note with a little happy face.

Despite the pounding in her head, Emma smiled. The smile widened when she spotted the two white pills her roommate had placed next to the water glass. "Thank you, Mary Margaret," she murmured, grabbing the pills and swallowing them down with a large gulp of water.

She was going to set the glass back still mostly full but remembered the note and drank the rest of the water. Times like this, it was easy to see why Henry kept insisting that Mary Margaret was Emma's mother. And times like this, Emma found herself wishing it were true.

Not all of it, of course. She could totally do without the whole being responsible for the happiness of the residents of an entire town part. But the Mary Margaret being her mother part, that was definitely okay with her.

Finally, she remembered her original mission, which was to find out the time. It was only quarter of eight; she'd only be a few minutes late if she hurried.

Then again, why hurry? She was a one-woman show, after all; no one to report to, no one keeping track of her hours. As a matter of fact, maybe she'd stop off for breakfast before heading into the station. If she was going to be late anyway, she might as well take advantage of it.

* * *

Regina Mills heaved an irritated sigh as she shifted position in the driver's seat of her car. She had parked across the street from Granny's almost a half hour ago. Each minute that passed, the more annoyed she became.

Where in the hell was Emma Swan? Every other day, Regina could practically set her watch by her. At the sheriff's station by eight, down to the diner for a cup of coffee and the occasional blueberry muffin by quarter past. But now here it was, almost eight-thirty, and there was no sign of her at all.

It figured this would be the one day that Emma would change her routine. Regina had come up with a plan, an utterly brilliant and endlessly entertaining plan that would solve all of her problems. She couldn't freaking _wait_ to put it into action.

However, putting it into action would be more than a little difficult if her target didn't show. If she even had to wait until tomorrow …

Just then, Regina caught a flash of yellow out of the corner of her eye. Ah yes, there was Emma now, and from the looks of it, she hadn't been to the station yet. The sheriff had unwittingly given Regina the perfect opening.

_Oh, Emma_, she thought, _sometimes you make things far too easy. _It was so easy it almost wasn't even fun.

Almost.

Regina gave it another minute or so, just long enough that it wouldn't be obvious she'd followed Emma inside. Then she climbed out of her car, eased the door closed, and crossed the street.

She found Emma seated in the far booth, a steaming mug of coffee in front of her. A quick glance told Regina that the diner was populated, though, due to the lateness of the hour, not as populated as she would have liked. She'd actually wanted to do this with Mary Margaret Blanchard as a witness, but the teacher and Emma were on slightly different schedules and Regina couldn't figure out how best to coordinate it.

No matter, though. Word would reach Mary Margaret soon enough.

The stage was set. The audience was in their seats. Now it was time to start the show.

After setting her shoulders, Regina crossed the diner and slipped into Emma's booth, sitting down across from her. "Running a little late today, are we, Sheriff Swan?"

Emma arched an eyebrow. "Don't worry, Madame Mayor. I'll make sure to put it down on my time sheet."

Regina allowed a smirk to let Emma think she was conceding the point. In actuality, she was looking Emma over, taking in her bloodshot eyes and the dark circles underneath them that her makeup hadn't quite been able to hide.

So, it appeared as if Emma had had a rough night. Good. That would be helpful. "Oh, I'm not worried, Ms. Swan. About any of it."

The façade of pleasantness that Emma had been projecting for the sake of the other diner patrons cracked. Just a hairline fracture, not enough that anyone but Regina would have been able to see. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"I think you know exactly what it means, dear." Regina crossed her hands on the table and leaned forward. She lowered her voice so that only Emma could hear her, injecting it with an ice-cold tone she used on very few people in this life. "You wanted to start playing a different game, Ms. Swan. I'm simply agreeing that it's time we should. There are, however, a few things you should know first."

Emma must have been if not scared then at least very confused but she simply raised a single eyebrow. _She must be a fantastic poker player_, Regina thought, because her face gave away nothing. "Oh, really? And what are these things I should know?"

"First among them," Regina said as she leaned back in the booth, "is that I thought, in the interest of fairness, that you should know exactly whom you're dealing with."

"Since when have you been interested in fairness?" Emma easily returned, looking for all the world completely unperturbed. If anything, now she looked a little amused.

Oh, how Regina longed to smack that amusement off her face. But no, that wasn't the plan. Stick to the plan.

She shifted position and glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was trying to eavesdrop on their conversation. Ruby and August, over on the other side of the diner, kept glancing at them with interest, but nobody else seemed to be paying them any mind.

Excellent.

She turned back to Emma and gave her a sickly sweet smile, one Emma would immediately recognize as fake. "If you want to declare war, that's perfectly fine with me because you have no idea the kind of power I have."

Now Emma was regarding her with something that resembled pity. "You're just the mayor of some no-name little town in Maine, lady," Emma said. It was clear from her tone that it was all she could do not to roll her eyes. "Your power doesn't extend nearly as far as you seem to think it does. Now if you'll excuse me …" She set money on the table for her coffee and prepared to stand.

"Oh, Ms. Swan, I'm not the mayor of some little no-name town in Maine," Regina murmured, her voice so low and cold that it froze Emma in her tracks. "Not really. That's just part of the illusion."

Emma blinked hard, her poker-player's face forgotten. There it was, the confusion and, just behind it, the fear. Regina grinned to herself. "What illusion?"

"Oh, please. You know exactly what illusion. The one my son's been trying to get you to believe in from the day he dragged you here."

When Emma spoke again, her voice quavered. "I have no idea what you're trying to accomplish with this, but all you're doing is renewing my resolve. You're clearly unstable and–"

"Believe what you want, dear, but you can't tell me you haven't considered the possibility. Not with everything you've seen and everything you've experienced. You're convinced I have it out for your precious Mary Margaret. Did you ever stop to think of why that is? Or why I would have a set of keys to every lock in this town? So, Sheriff Swan, think hard and tell me … what do you think is really responsible for Graham's death?"

At the mention of poor Graham, tears leaped into Emma's eyes. This time Regina didn't bother to hide her smile. _Thank you, Emma. _

She'd found her way in. Now all she had to do was keep pressing her on Graham. She had to keep pressing and not let up.

"Graham was sick, Regina," Emma shot back with just a hint of uncertainty in her tone. "I was with him, remember? You were nowhere around."

"No, I wasn't. Do you want to know where I was? While you and Graham were off doing … well, who knows what, I was under my father's tomb, retrieving Graham's heart. It was there all along; you two were just too stupid to think of looking underground."

Emma shook her head more out of reflex than anything. She sat there, a faraway look in her glistening eyes. In her mind's eye, she was not in the diner but back at the mausoleum with Graham. Poor Graham who was going on and on about how he didn't have a heart and how he needed to find it.

Then suddenly she was back in the present. She blinked the tears away and glared at Regina. "You're insane. Do you realize that you just confessed to murder?"

"Well, now, which is it, Emma?" Regina asked, eyes shining, a smirk on her lips. "Either it is true and I did kill him, or it isn't true and I didn't. But you can't have it both ways. If you want to charge me with murder, then you have to admit that the curse is real."

"I–"

"_Think_, Emma!" she hissed. "Which is it? Did I kill him or not?"

"This is crazy. _You're_ crazy," Emma muttered. She started to slide out of the booth, eager to put as much distance as possible between her and the mayor.

Oh, Regina most definitely had her on the line. Now it was time to reel her in.

"I told you that you were putting dangerous thoughts in his head, and you were. Those thoughts? Were his memories. His _real_ memories, and I couldn't have that. But it wasn't until he betrayed me – for you – that I realized I'd lost control of him."

Emma looked like she needed to vomit. Regina's grin widened. She leaned forward again and made her voice as hard as she could. Mayor Regina was gone, and in her place was Queen Regina. It felt fantastic to drop the charade and let her true self out again, even if only for a few seconds. "So I retrieved his heart and held it in my hand, and then I crushed it to dust."

For a long beat, Emma remained still. A single tear escaped her left eye and trickled down her cheek as she relived those final moments with Graham. Then she was up in a flash, lunging across the table, reaching for Regina.

The diner erupted in chaos. All around, the patrons were shouting, hollering. Emma had managed to rake her nails down Regina's cheek but she was clawing too wildly to do what she really wanted, which was get her hands around Regina's throat.

Though Regina desperately wanted to start a knock-down, drag-out fight with the sheriff, she managed to restrain herself to self-defense moves only. She did allow Emma to get in a couple of hair yanks and another scratch or two, though. It was better for the show.

The attack lasted less than thirty seconds. That was how long it took for August Booth to cross the diner, get a firm grip on Emma, and drag her away from the table.

"No! Let me go!" Emma cried, struggling against August's grip. "She's evil! She killed Graham!"

August murmured something into Emma's ear that Regina couldn't hear, but whatever he was saying had no effect. She continued to struggle to break free, continued to yell that Regina had killed Graham.

A siren wailed somewhere nearby. Someone – Granny, probably – must have called for an ambulance. It was all Regina could do not to smile at her good fortune.

The ambulance screeched to a stop outside and three paramedics burst through the diner doors, two of them running for Emma and the third hurrying over to Regina. He applied some antibiotic ointment to the scratch marks running down her cheek. It stung; Emma had broken skin. He apologized for the sting when he saw her flinch, but she insisted she was fine. Besides, she was trying to watch what was happening with Emma.

The paramedics didn't have any more luck in calming her than August had, but at least they had come in with a backup plan. While one of them ran back to the ambulance to get the stretcher, the other pulled out a syringe and stuck the needle into Emma's upper arm. In the time it took him to push the plunger and remove the syringe, Emma had begun to quiet. A few seconds later, she slumped, unconscious, into August's arms.

August helped get her onto the stretcher and the paramedics quickly strapped her down. The one tending to Regina – in another life, they'd all been her palace guards – finished applying the bandage to her cheek and asked her what happened.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Regina replied in her best confused voice. "We were just having a conversation and the next thing I knew, she was attacking me. She's clearly a very sick woman, poor thing. I do hope she'll be all right."

"Not to worry, Madame Mayor," the paramedic assured her. "We'll make sure she gets the help she needs."

Regina nodded, false but convincing concern on her features, all the while thinking that Emma getting "help" had been her goal in the first place.

He stood and helped his colleagues wheel Emma's stretcher out of the diner. August stood still for a long moment, watching them go. Then he glanced at Regina and hurried after the paramedics. Just before the door closed behind them, Regina heard him asking if he could ride with Emma.

Huh. She hadn't expected that.

_Not that it really matters_, she thought, her fingers lightly brushing the bandage on her cheek. Even with that little wrinkle, this had actually turned out far better than she'd planned.


	3. Chapter Three

**Author's Note:** Thank you for the reviews and alerts, lovelies! Just wanted to give y'all a heads-up that unfortunately, today is the last day of my vacation, so the chapters probably won't be coming quite this quickly from here on out. Dang work. ;) Enjoy!

* * *

By lunchtime, the gossip had hit Storybrooke Elementary. It was all any of the staff could talk about, how the sheriff had attacked the mayor at Granny's. Mary Margaret Blanchard had lost track of how many versions of the story she'd heard.

All her time sitting in on games of Telephone had taught her that although the real story inevitably became warped and distorted the further out it spread, there was always some unchanging nugget of truth in all of the different versions. And with this story, the part that remained unchanged was Emma assaulting Regina for what appeared to be no reason at all.

How she managed to not only keep the rumors from reaching Henry but also make it through the rest of the day was anyone's guess. As soon as the final bell rang, she packed up her things, ran out the door, and headed directly for the hospital.

She spotted August Booth by the vending machines. From the tense expression on his face and the force with which he shoved the machine when the bag of chips he purchased got stuck on the way down, she figured he was there for Emma. It was nice to see a friendly face; maybe he'd be able to shed a little light on the morning's events.

Giving up on the damn bag of chips with a frustrated grunt, he looked up and caught Mary Margaret's eye. "I've been trying to call you," he said as he hurried over to her.

"I keep my phone turned off at work. What happened?"

"I don't really know," he admitted. "One minute, the two of them are talking and the next, Emma's on her feet and trying to wrap her hands around Regina's throat."

What? That made no sense. The animosity between Emma and Regina wasn't at all a secret, but she couldn't imagine what would have made Emma react so violently. "Do you have any idea what they were talking about?"

He gave a helpless shrug. "I couldn't hear what they were saying, but Regina did most of the talking and Emma got visibly upset towards the end of it, right before she …" He allowed the sentence to trail off, at a loss for words.

"So Regina provoked her."

"I'd say so, yes, but Regina's insisting she didn't do anything and that Emma just snapped."

"Of course she is," Mary Margaret grumbled. "What does Emma say?"

When August cringed, Mary Margaret's heart leaped into her throat. She was almost certainly not going to like what he had to say next. "Emma's not saying much; they're keeping her sedated. The paramedics had to knock her out at Granny's and apparently when she came to earlier, she just kept repeating that Regina was evil and that she'd killed someone named Graham."

Mary Margaret's knees buckled and she felt an overwhelming desire to sit down. The desire became a need, and she sank into one of the waiting room chairs, placing her head in her hands.

What on earth had happened this morning? What could Regina have possibly done to provoke this kind of reaction from Emma? And for Emma to accuse Regina of murdering Graham? None of it made even the slightest bit of sense.

She wasn't even aware that August had sat down next to her until he let out a heavy breath. "Mary Margaret, who is Graham and why would Emma think that Regina killed him?"

Her voice caught when she tried to answer. She cleared her throat, took a deep breath, and started again. "Graham was the sheriff here … before Emma. He got sick very suddenly and passed away. Heart attack, looked like. Emma was with him when it happened."

August shut his eyes, equal parts sympathy for the loss and for Emma's ordeal. When he opened them again, he looked directly at Mary Margaret. "Was Regina anywhere near them?"

"Not as far as I know," she shrugged. "It was just the two of them. I haven't the faintest idea why she would all of a sudden think that Regina killed him." Or why she would try to strangle her even if she did think she'd killed him. She shook her head again, this time as if to clear it. The only one who could tell her what happened – what _really_ happened – was Emma. "August, I need to talk to her."

He glanced over his shoulder at the reception desk, a troubled expression knotting his brow, and turned back to Mary Margaret. "They won't let me in to see her, but you're her roommate. You might have better luck."

She even hadn't thought about the hospital not letting people back to be with Emma. They couldn't play the family-only card; her only blood family was a ten-year-old boy. Mary Margaret was the closest thing to family Emma had, and damn it, that had to count for something.

"Oh, they'll let me see her," Mary Margaret said as she pushed herself to her feet. "If they don't, I'll make such a scene that they'll have to sedate me, too."

A grin formed on August's lips as Mary Margaret marched up to the desk and demanded to be taken back to Emma. It was nice to see a mother standing up for her daughter, even if she had no idea that that was what she was doing.

* * *

Emma Swan was angry. She was angry but she had no idea why. She just felt the burning, seething rage deep within her and she knew if she didn't let it out, she'd explode.

But how to let it out? This was no ice-cubes-in-the-bathtub hissyfit. This was real, serious, do-some-damage fury.

The niggling question, though, was why? This level of anger didn't just come from nowhere, and Emma knew from various kinds of anger.

Her thoughts were fuzzy. Why were her thoughts fuzzy? She tried to sit up only to find that her arms couldn't move.

What the hell? She kicked her legs. They couldn't move, either.

Panic rose in her throat. Her eyes snapped open but she didn't recognize her surroundings. Leather straps were fastened around her wrists and ankles. She tried to holler only to have it come out as a groan.

The pillow under her head told her she was lying on a bed. She was lying on a bed in an unknown place with straps around her ankles and her wrists. Not good. Not good at all.

"Emma?"

At the sound of the uncertain voice, she stopped trying to work herself free from the straps. Her gaze traveled in the direction of the sound, and her panicked eyes finally focused on Mary Margaret.

Mary Margaret, who was standing next to an IV stand.

An IV stand, which meant they were in a hospital.

Why was Emma in the hospital? She glanced down at her wrists and ankles and finally realized that the bindings were restraints. Why the _hell_ was she in restraints? "Mary Margaret?"

"You're in the hospital, Emma," her roommate began, her voice gentle.

"No, I know that. I just don't …"

All at once, she remembered. Regina in the diner, confessing that she was the Evil Queen from Henry's stories. That the curse was real. That she had killed Graham.

Poor Graham, whose only crime was getting involved with Regina in the first place.

Regina, who had Henry. Who was going to get away with it all.

Not if Emma could help it. She yanked on the restraints; she'd break the damn things if she had to in order to get free. The leather bit into her skin, which surprised her. Was this the first time she'd tried to free herself? Judging from the tenderness of the skin underneath the straps, it wasn't, but she didn't remember anything between the diner and now.

What had she been doing, struggling in her sleep?

It didn't matter. She needed to get free, needed to get to Henry. Needed to get Henry out of that house.

"Emma, please. You _have_ to calm down or they're going to sedate you again."

Mary Margaret. She'd almost forgotten that Mary Margaret was in the room with her.

The teacher had crept closer and was now standing next to the bed. She pressed the controls, raising the head so that Emma was sitting up a little bit more. She'd tried to put on a brave face, but Emma could see the fear and helplessness swimming in her eyes. She stopped struggling against the restraints, if only for Mary Margaret's sake.

She blinked as something new hit her. If Regina was really the Evil Queen, then Mary Margaret was really Snow White. And if Mary Margaret was really Snow White, that meant … no. Yes? Was that really her mother standing there, trying so hard to keep tears at bay?

"Emma, what happened?"

"Regina's evil," she whispered before she could stop herself. Too much was tumbling through her head right now, too much to try to make sense of, too much that made no sense at all. She just knew that if it was true, she needed to keep her voice down. Who knew who might be listening and would report back to Regina? "She's evil, Mary Margaret, just like Henry said. She killed Graham."

Mary Margaret hesitated before answering her. "Nobody killed Graham, Emma." Emma winced at her cautious tone, the vocal equivalent of slowly backing away from a rattlesnake. "You were with him when he … got sick. You know that nobody killed him."

Emma shook her head insistently. "She crushed his heart. She didn't have to be near him to kill him because she crushed his heart." The frightened look in Mary Margaret's eyes made her cringe but she kept talking. She should probably stop because she sounded kind of crazy and she was scaring her friend – mother? – but she couldn't seem to make herself shut up. "We have to get Henry out of that house. He's not safe there."

"Emma–"

"She's a killer! He can't stay with her. He can't stay there another minute."

Mary Margaret's gaze darted above Emma's head for the briefest of moments. Emma turned to see what she was looking at and saw Dr. Whale approaching the room. Crap on a stick, she was running out of time! "Please, Mary Margaret, tell me that you'll get him out of that house," she hissed.

Were the situation not so urgent, the stricken expression on Mary Margaret's face would have been comical. "And how do you expect me to do that?"

"I don't know and I don't care, but you have to get him away from her. Promise me!"

Mary Margaret's eyes widened as Dr. Whale opened the door. Emma caught the silent warning and finally managed to shut her mouth.

"I see you're awake," Dr. Whale said as he grabbed her chart from the rack at the foot of her bed. "How're you feeling, Miss Swan?"

It took Emma a moment to find her congenial sheriff voice. "Much better, thank you. Mind letting me out of the restraints?"

"I'm afraid I can't do that unless you can tell me why you attacked the mayor over breakfast."

Oh, shit. What could she say? _By the way, the mayor's evil and she killed the sheriff before me because he betrayed her and because he was remembering his former life as a fairy-tale character? _Yeah, that would go over really well. "That's between us."

Dr. Whale raised his eyebrows at her. "According to Mayor Mills, you lunged at her out of the clear blue sky."

Emma rolled her eyes and groaned. "Of course she'd tell you that. Look, I apologize for going after her, and I promise I won't do it again. Can you please let me out of the restraints?"

The doctor and Mary Margaret exchanged a glance, and he gave a slight shake of his head. The panic started churning in Emma's stomach again. They knew something she didn't, and she had a funny feeling she was not going to like it. To Emma, he said, "I'm sorry, Miss Swan, but you're on a mandatory seventy-two-hour hold."

Right then, with those words, the bottom dropped out of Emma's world. "You have me on a psych hold?"

"You attacked the mayor with no provocation." Emma opened her mouth to argue but Whale held up a hand, silencing her before she could even begin. "At least, no provocation that you're willing to admit. So unless you want to tell me what happened …"

Emma's head was spinning. And she'd thought that she was in trouble before.

How in the hell could she tell the doctor what Regina had said without sounding like she _belonged_ on a goddamn psych hold? After seeing how Mary Margaret, who knew that Regina was the worst possible kind of bad news, reacted to what she was saying, she could only imagine what Dr. Whale would think. But if she kept silent, she would be pegged as uncooperative and she'd be stuck in these damn restraints for the next seventy-two hours. Either way, she was screwed.

"Emma, please," Mary Margaret urged. "Just tell him what happened."

Tears welled in Emma's eyes at the pleading tone of Mary Margaret's voice. Unwilling to look either her or Dr. Whale in the eye, Emma stared straight ahead.

"Very well," Dr. Whale sighed. "I'll go see to your transfer."

He left the room, and Emma and Mary Margaret sat in silence for a moment. Then Mary Margaret grabbed Emma's hand in an effort to recapture her attention. "Why didn't you tell him? What did she say to you?"

Emma all of a sudden felt like the world's biggest disappointment. All Mary Margaret wanted was to know what happened, and she couldn't even give her that much.

She looked down at the hand grasping hers, the hand that was inches away from the fastenings on her restraints. It would have been so easy to beg Mary Margaret to undo them and get her the hell out of here. So easy, but the look in Mary Margaret's eyes told her that it wasn't an option. The woman clearly was scared for her, but somewhere in there, maybe on a level she didn't even realize, she was also the tiniest bit scared _of_ her.

Emma had completely lost control. She'd lost control and given it to Regina.

She had to be careful. She couldn't say or do anything that would make it worse. Begging to be sprung from a mandatory psych hold would make it worse. Telling Mary Margaret what Regina had said would make it worse. Mary Margaret wouldn't believe her now. No one would. And really, why would they? Why _should _they?

"Emma? What did Regina say?"

"It doesn't matter," she muttered angrily. "She won." She kicked her leg in frustration, which only grew when the strap around her ankle made the skin underneath feel like it was burning.


	4. Chapter Four

Regina Mills allowed a satisfied smile as she hung up from her call with Dr. Whale. This little plan of hers could not have gone better. Emma Swan was not going anywhere for at least seventy-two hours. If things went the way Regina hoped they would, she'd be in that little hospital room for a whole hell of a lot longer than three measly days.

Whale had told her that Emma refused to disclose what had precipitated the fight, which made sense. Emma wouldn't want to sound completely unhinged, after all. However, Emma not talking at all left the doctors with no way to evaluate her, which meant they were stuck in a holding pattern until she chose to give them something they could use.

Not only that but the damage to Emma's reputation had been done. Regina could tell simply from the sympathetic looks she'd gotten from people in town when they saw the bandage on her cheek.

The front door clicked open and then slammed closed. "I'm home!" called Henry from the foyer.

"Yes, I gathered that," Regina muttered under her breath. She rose from her seat in her home office and walked out to the foyer to greet her son. "What have I told you about slamming the door, Henry?"

"Sorry," he said, although he didn't sound particularly apologetic. He set his backpack on the floor and shrugged off his jacket. It was only after hanging up the jacket in the closet and turning around that he looked at his mother for the first time. He froze, his eyes widening. "What happened?"

"Come sit down," she said, gesturing towards the dining room table. "We need to have a talk."

Henry stood still, an uncertain expression on his face. After a long beat, he stepped forward, his gaze never leaving the bandage on his mother's cheek. He sat down uneasily in a chair at the table and Regina took her place across from him. "Henry, did you hear anything about what happened at Granny's this morning?"

He shook his head without hesitation, which meant he was indeed telling her the truth.

Hmm. The news had most certainly reached the school because Mary Margaret Blanchard had shown up at the hospital less than ten minutes after the school day ended. The teacher must have run interference, shielding Henry from the rumors.

How that woman continually managed to screw things up without even trying, Regina had no clue.

No matter. Now she could handle the explanation herself. "Emma attacked me this morning. She scratched me, which is why I have the bandage."

"What did you do to her?" Henry asked without missing a beat.

"Henry!"

"She wouldn't have done something like that to you if you hadn't done something to her first," the boy reasoned. "What did you do?"

"I did not do a single thing to her," Regina replied, hardening her voice. This newfound preteen attitude of his was maddening. If only she could blame Emma for that, too, but he'd been getting mouthy even before he brought her to Storybrooke. It had been getting worse since she'd been here, though, so maybe she could blame Emma. At least partly. "She's an unstable woman, Henry, and you are not allowed to see her anymore."

"But–"

"End of discussion."

"What happened to her, though? Where is she? Is she okay?"

"None of that is any of your concern."

Henry regarded her with _that _expression on his face, the one where she could practically see the wheels turning in his little head. She held his gaze; even the slightest hint of waffling would give him ammunition. After a moment, he looked away and slumped against the back of the chair. "May I go start my homework now?"

"Yes." She watched him push himself to his feet and dejectedly make his way back out to the foyer, where he'd left his backpack.

The slump of his shoulders tore at her heart, and she felt an overwhelming need to say something to make him feel better. "I was thinking of making spaghetti and meatballs for dinner tonight," she offered. He loved spaghetti and meatballs; Regina typically found the meal too messy and she especially could not stand it when he slurped the long strands off his fork. "How does that sound to you?"

"I'm not really hungry," he shrugged. He hooked his backpack over his shoulder and started up the stairs.

Regina narrowed her eyes after him. That could have gone better, she supposed. Then again, once he started hearing the gossip, it would put her version of events in better light. Only two people knew what had really happened, after all, and one of them was sitting in the hospital on a psych hold.

No matter what Emma said now, her credibility was shot to hell.

* * *

Leaving Emma alone in that ten-by-ten hospital room was one of the hardest things Mary Margaret had ever done. She had stayed until Emma's transfer to a room of her own upstairs was finalized, and even then she only left because she was told she had to. The room had one wide window that overlooked the parking lot and a thick, heavy door that locked from the outside and couldn't be unlocked from the inside. Mary Margaret had warily eyed the door, but the nurse tending to Emma assured her that the doors were only locked at night. To keep the patients from wandering, she'd said.

Mary Margaret had grasped her roommate's hand and, after confirming that Emma would be allowed visitors, told her she'd be back the following afternoon when she got out of school. Emma had nodded but hadn't said a word.

As a matter of fact, she hadn't said a single thing after blurting out that Regina had won. All of Mary Margaret's attempts to get her to clarify or explain went unanswered. Perhaps the medication the hospital had put her on was making her uncommunicative, but Mary Margaret didn't think so.

No, something had happened that morning. Something had happened between her and Regina that left Emma either too angry or too frightened to tell the truth.

That said, Mary Margaret still had no idea what Regina could possibly have done or said to send Emma into such a state. The way she was fighting against the restraints as she was coming to, the way she was insisting – ranting, really – that Henry wasn't safe because Regina was a killer … that was not Emma. At least not the Emma she'd come to know.

And she had no explanation at all for why Emma had decided that Regina had killed Graham.

Graham. Could this all be some kind of delayed reaction to Graham's death? In the days and weeks following his death, Emma had been sullen, sure. A lot more sullen than normal, at any rate. However, as far as Mary Margaret knew, except for the night everything happened Emma hadn't even allowed herself to cry for him. And the only reason why Mary Margaret even knew Emma had cried at all was because when she'd met her at the hospital, Emma was shaking and the tear stains were still on her cheeks.

So could this … breakdown of Emma's be in some way related to Graham? Some kind of culmination of weeks and months of ignored, tamped down, buried emotion?

It was possible, of course. Anything was possible. But from what she knew of Emma – and of Regina – Mary Margaret didn't think it seemed all that likely.

When she'd told August about her conversation with Emma, he'd looked even more agitated than before. Then he'd said he needed to go think and took off for the B&B. At a loss for anything else to do, Mary Margaret had gone home as well.

A sigh escaped her lips as she set a pot of water on the stove to boil. It struck her as odd to be making a meal small enough for one again. Even on the nights when she and Emma didn't eat together, she'd cooked enough to leave Emma a plate, but for the next three nights at least, she'd be cooking only for herself.

The realization left her a lot more depressed than she really expected. Maybe she'd just get takeout.

"Emma, Emma. Come in, Emma."

Mary Margaret gasped, the sound startling her from her reverie. Where had that come from?

"Come in, Emma. Are you there?"

She followed the tinny voice and crackling static to the walkie-talkie Emma had left on the kitchen table. With a sad smile, she picked up the device and pressed the button to answer. "Hi, Henry."

"Miss Blanchard?" The confusion in his voice was obvious. "Is Emma there?"

Had Regina not told him about this morning? Typical. "No, she's not. Has your mom talked to you?"

"Yes, but she wouldn't tell me where Emma is."

_Of course she wouldn't, _Mary Margaret thought_. __Thanks a lot, Regina_. "She's in the hospital. She'll be there for the next couple of days."

"Is she okay?" he asked, panic rising in his tone.

"She's fine. She just needs to rest for a few days."

His next question was soft, just barely above a whisper. It wasn't until he got the question out that she understood why. "Can I go see her?" Regina must have forbidden him from trying to track down Emma, which was why he had dropped his voice down so low.

Mary Margaret closed her eyes and groaned inwardly. She was willing to bet dollars to doughnuts that Emma would not want Henry going to the hospital for a visit. Not while she was in restraints and medicated to the hilt. "Not right now," she told him gently, "but I'm going to see her tomorrow after school and I'll ask her then if she's up for visitors, okay?"

"Okay." He couldn't have sounded any sadder if she told him his dog had run away. "Thanks, Miss Blanchard. I'll see you in school tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow, Henry."

"Over and out."

"Over and out," she returned and set the walkie-talkie back on the table in the exact spot where Emma had left it. That poor kid. He'd sounded so lost.

In point of fact, he'd sounded exactly how she felt right about now. _Oh, Emma_, she thought, _what on earth is going on?_


	5. Chapter Five

**Author's Note:** This chapter was also a ridiculous amount of fun to write. I whipped out the first section at like, 11:30 one night, and truthfully, I didn't change it all that much during edits. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Emma wasn't at all prepared for the nightmares. She should have been, what with all the emotional upheaval, but the medicated haze she'd been entrenched in since that morning had kept her blissfully unaware. Until now. She didn't know what had changed; they were still pumping her full of drugs. But something _had_ changed and now she had to suffer through the nightmares.

Some of them had a storyline she could follow – not that she wanted to – but most were just a series of images, rapid-fire, one after the other.

Graham telling her he remembered and then falling down at her feet, dead.

Regina, a human heart in her hand, squeezing, blood coursing down her arm, dripping from her elbow, and pooling on the floor.

Mary Margaret taking one of the apples Regina had given Emma her first few days in town, biting into it before Emma could stop her.

Henry, his eyes wide with fear, his mouth open in a silent scream as Regina advanced on him, cackling like a Halloween witch.

Every time she woke from one of her nightmares, the sedative Dr. Whale had ordered would pull her back under in seconds and a new one would begin. More images, more flashes, each more intense and more awful than the last. Each building on the one before, compounding it, making it worse.

Graham unbuttoning his shirt and showing Emma the hole in his chest where his heart had been.

Henry running towards her only to have Regina step in between them, grab Henry, drag him away, and lock him in a dungeon.

Mary Margaret lying in a coffin, her eyes closed, her hands crossed over her stomach.

Regina, a glittering silver crown on her head, standing over Mary Margaret's (or was it Snow White's?) coffin with a triumphant smile on her face.

"No, no, no!" The cry woke her and it was a few seconds before she recognized the voice as her own. She became aware of the nurses in her room then, heard their whispered conversation, caught something about upping her dosage.

No. Upping her dosage meant they wanted her to sleep more, but she didn't want to sleep. She couldn't bear it, couldn't handle any more terrifying images. She tried to speak, to plead with them not to up her meds, but the words wouldn't come. She was whimpering, she was crying, but she couldn't speak.

Please, please, don't make me go back to sleep, she wanted to beg but still nothing came. Her lips wouldn't – couldn't? – form the words.

Frustrated, terrified, she began pulling at the restraints. At first it was just to try to get the nurses' attention but her panic grew, and soon she was kicking her legs, thrashing her arms. She barely felt the leather chafing her damaged skin. _Please, stop! _she cried, but only in her head.

And then she felt herself drifting as the medication began pulling her back into a world filled with perversions of the truth. No! No, not again! But even as she tried to struggle, she couldn't make her limbs comply. She longed to kick but her legs remained still. She tried moving her arms but they, too, had lost their fight.

Emma whimpered, finally managing to murmur a barely audible, "No" as the sedative drew her back into her nightmares.

* * *

Dr. Archie Hopper took a seat in the visitor's chair in Emma Swan's hospital room. The patient – and he could barely analyze his own feelings on having to regard Emma as a psych patient – was seated in the chair across from him, staring out the window. What she was looking at, he had no idea.

Bright red abrasions ringed her wrists and ankles from her struggle against the restraints. Dr. Whale had informed him that they'd had to remove the restraints during the night to keep her from bruising or rubbing her skin raw.

"Emma, do you want to tell me what happened last night?" he asked.

Slowly, she shifted her gaze and focused her bleary eyes on him. She was still medicated, though not quite as heavily as the day before. "I had nightmares."

"Pretty violent reaction to some nightmares, Emma." A shrug. "Do you remember fighting with the nurses?"

She gave a barely perceptible nod. "They wanted me to go back to sleep. I didn't want to. I couldn't tell them, but I didn't want to."

"Because of the nightmares." Another nod. "Do you remember what they were about?"

"Doesn't matter."

"I think it might."

"Maybe, but I don't want to tell you."

"Can I ask why?"

She shrugged.

Archie let out a breath through his nose and decided to let the conversation drop. He wanted to observe what she did in the silence.

Her gaze again drifted to the window. Her eyes searched for a moment and then focused on something in the middle distance. He surreptitiously glanced out the window himself, but unless she was watching the leaves in the trees across from the parking lot flutter in the breeze, he had no idea what could have been capturing her attention.

He cleared his throat, trying once again to draw her into conversation. "If you don't want to talk about the nightmares, let's talk about why you're here in the first place." Although he could tell she'd heard him, she did not turn away from the window.

Archie leaned forward, tapped her knee to get her attention, and lowered his voice. He shouldn't be telling her what he was about to tell her, but he needed her to understand what was at stake. "I don't know if you know how these things work, Emma, but the seventy-two hours is a minimum. If the doctors here aren't convinced that you're not a danger to yourself or others, they won't release you. Do you understand?"

She gave a slow nod.

"So you really need to tell me what happened at breakfast yesterday."

Emma took a deep breath, set her shoulders, and looked Archie in the eye for the first time. "She made me mad."

"What did she do to make you mad?" He was losing her again; her gaze shifted, this time to inspect her hands in her lap. "Did she do something? Say something?" A flinch. "What did she say?"

"What does it matter?" Her tone was flat, a side effect of the meds. Still, there was a sense of hopelessness in her voice that Archie found troubling. "I'm going to tell you what she said, she's going to say she would never say such a thing, and which one of us is going to be believed now?"

"I'm not here to be judge, jury, and executioner, Emma," he told her. "All I want is to understand."

For a long moment, she didn't move a muscle. Then she pulled her feet off the floor and hugged her knees to her chest.

All right, so he was going to have to dig a bit. He did have to wonder, though, how much of her reticence was actually her and how much of it was the medication. "At the diner, you kept saying that Regina killed Graham. Is that what she told you?"

She didn't respond. Just as Archie was getting ready to rephrase the question, she mumbled, "She said she crushed Graham's heart. In her hand. She crushed it to dust."

His eyebrows shot up. "Why would she tell you something like that?"

"Ask her," she shrugged. "You'd probably have a field day with her."

Archie bit his lower lip to hide his smile. At least her sarcastic sense of humor was still there somewhere under all the meds.

"Archie, can you do me a favor?"

"Depends on the favor."

"Will you let them know about the nightmares? Tell them that's why I was fighting them? Every time I woke up, the sedative would knock me back out and the next nightmare would be worse. I just … can't go through another night like that. Not again."

"I'll let them know," he assured her.

She nodded her thanks and, after a moment, shifted her focus once again to the window.

He let the silence stretch out for a full minute before asking, "What's out there, Emma?" She looked back at him with a confused frown. "Your attention keeps going to the window. What's out there?"

She gave a small sigh as she got to her feet and walked over to the window. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared out at the bright blue cloudless sky. "Freedom."


	6. Chapter Six

Mary Margaret Blanchard stood in front the door to Emma's room, trying to shore up the courage to enter.

Dr. Whale had given her the short version of Emma's nightmare-fueled fight with the nurses, and he'd said that according to Dr. Hopper's notes, she'd opened up very little with him that morning. Neither of those things sounded at all promising. When Mary Margaret asked if he thought Emma would be let out when her seventy-two hours were up, Whale had been noncommittal.

She certainly appreciated the update, but the conversation had left her somewhat afraid of what kind of shape Emma would be in when she walked into that room. Would she still be ranting and raving about Regina being a killer? Or would she be silent like the previous afternoon, where no amount of prodding and pleading could get her to speak?

There was only one way to find out. She took a deep breath to prepare herself and stepped into the room.

She found Emma curled up on her side, deep in a troubled sleep. At some point, she'd kicked the blanket to the floor. Mary Margaret's eyes immediately went to the red marks around Emma's wrists. She frowned. What the …

It wasn't until she spied the matching abrasions on her ankles that it made sense. From fighting against the restraints. "Oh, Emma," she whispered. With a soft sigh, she picked up the blanket, shook it out, and spread it over Emma before sinking down in the visitor's chair.

Despite Emma's restlessness, Mary Margaret decided to let her sleep. She pulled out her book but only made it through a couple of pages before Emma's agitation grew. Mary Margaret leaned forward to wake her but then hesitated. What if attempting to wake her only frightened her further?

When Emma whimpered again, louder this time, she decided to chance it. She shook her roommate's shoulder and called her name, quiet at first but then louder to cut through the nightmare.

Emma woke with a start, and her gaze almost immediately locked on her roommate. Her muscles visibly relaxed once she realized that she had only been dreaming. "Thanks," she said groggily, pushing herself up into a sitting position.

"You're welcome," Mary Margaret smiled. She was about to ask if Emma wanted to talk about the nightmare, but the look on her roommate's face stopped her. She was clearly not up to discussing the dream; she looked more like she wanted to forget it ever happened.

Instead, Mary Margaret sat back in the chair and gave Emma time to shake off the remnants of the nightmare and get herself situated. Once Emma had raised the head of the bed so she could sit comfortably, Mary Margaret asked, "How're you feeling?"

"Like crap," Emma answered. Then she gave Mary Margaret a half-smile to let her know she was at least somewhat joking.

"It's only a couple more days," Mary Margaret assured her. Emma nodded and averted her gaze, suddenly uncomfortable with the sympathy.

Taking her cues from Emma's body language, Mary Margaret shifted the topic of conversation. "Listen, August and Henry have been asking for you–"

"Oh, God, Henry," Emma groaned, leaning her head back against the bed. "I can't even imagine what that bitch has been telling him about all this."

Mary Margaret winced at the venom in Emma's voice but since her roommate was, for one, actually speaking and, for another, not insisting that Regina was a killer, she figured she should let it go without comment. "I don't think it matters what she's told him, Emma. He wants to see you. August, too."

Emma shook her head, panic on her face. "August can come, but Henry … I-I don't want him to see me like this. But don't tell him that! Not in those words, but–"

"I'll think of something to tell him."

"Thank you."

The two of them fell into a mildly awkward silence. Mary Margaret had about a zillion and one questions but she didn't know how amenable Emma would be to answering them. Not to mention that poor Emma looked so uncomfortable in her own skin that Mary Margaret didn't have the heart to press her on anything.

"Mary Margaret, I'm sorry."

An apology was the last thing she'd expected, nor did she think the situation warranted one. She looked at her roommate a confused frown. "For what?"

Emma arched a brow. "For what? Maybe because you're sitting here in a room on a psych unit with me right now. Or maybe for the fact that I just asked you to lie to one of your students."

"It's just a tiny lie," Mary Margaret teased, keeping her tone lighthearted.

Emma gave her a sad smile. "Maybe for scaring you. And for making you worry."

Mary Margaret shook her head and reached out to take Emma's hand. "Don't worry about any of that, Emma. An apology is not at all necessary. All I need for you to do is focus on getting better so that you can get out of here." She gave Emma's hand a squeeze and then let go. Then she took a deep breath in, preparation for the chance she was about to take. What she was going to say had the potential to shut Emma down, but she needed her to hear it. "I miss you at home."

Tears pricked in Emma's eyes at her roommate's admission. "I …" She cleared her throat to dislodge the lump that had suddenly risen and started again. "I miss you, too."

Just then, one of the floor nurses stepped into the room to tell Mary Margaret that her fifteen minutes were almost up. Mary Margaret thanked her and turned back to Emma. "Do you want me to come back tomorrow?"

Emma's voice was quiet as she said, "Yes, please."

"Sure thing." She rose and again grasped Emma's hand, this time as a goodbye. "See you tomorrow, then."

Emma squeezed her hand before letting go. "See you."

Mary Margaret gave her a smile and left the room, looking back over her shoulder only once. Emma had turned away from the door and was now staring out the window, swiping at her eyes. Mary Margaret's heart ached as it hit her that Emma was crying.

Emma didn't cry. Emma never cried.

Out in the hallway, she allowed the tension and concern she'd been holding back for Emma's sake to show. Emma had sounded a lot more like herself compared to the previous day, but there was an air of hopelessness radiating from her that Mary Margaret didn't like at all. Plus, she still had no real idea what had happened in the first place.

_No wonder Emma's having nightmares_, she thought. This whole situation was one giant waking nightmare.

* * *

Regina Mills sat back in her home office chair, a displeased frown turning down the corners of her mouth. To say that she didn't like the latest report she had gotten from her source at the hospital would have been a severe understatement. Apparently Emma had started to open up in her second session with Archie Hopper that afternoon, and the therapist had written in his notes that she was "making progress."

Emma Swan was not supposed to be making progress. Emma Swan was supposed to be digging herself into a hole so deep that she would never be able to climb out.

At least it didn't sound as if she'd yet learned how to play the system. From what she gathered, Emma was going through some pretty real emotional turmoil, which, by the way, Regina didn't hate hearing. It just seemed as if she was … learning to deal with it.

That was not at all what Regina had had in mind when she came up with this little scheme. She'd wanted Emma locked up for good. However, if things continued the way they were, it sounded as if she might be let out after the seventy-two hours after all.

Regina needed to do something, but what?

She could argue the point. Say that since Emma had erupted "so suddenly," letting her back out onto the street after a mere three days wouldn't be prudent. The only issue she could see with that was depending on just how much she'd have to argue, she ran the risk of having it appear personal. It _was_ personal, of course, but she couldn't have it look that way.

Another option was to just let it play out. Sit back and watch what happened when Emma was released and tried to return to her life in Storybrooke. Considering how the townspeople had shunned Mary Margaret when news of the affair broke, Emma probably wouldn't get off any easier in the court of public opinion.

But even then, that was only probably. No one could predict how people would react to something until they did, and she didn't want to take the chance of Emma simply being forgiven for her crime.

No, she needed something better. Something she could control, something that would put this plan back on track.

Wait. _Control. _

That was it.

She rose and quietly climbed the stairs. A peek in on Henry proved that he was sound asleep. If she hurried, he would never even miss her.

After a swift walk through the house to make sure all the doors and windows were locked, she climbed into her car and took off for the hospital.

This time of night, the hospital employed a skeleton crew, and most, if not all, of the visitors had gone home. The hallways were deserted when Regina stepped through the entrance, but even still, she figured she'd better take the stairs.

She emerged from the stairwell on the official psych floor. It wasn't locked down, considering the most serious of patients were housed on the unofficial psych floor in the bowels of the hospital. The doors to the rooms on this floor were kept locked at night, however, and for that she'd come prepared. The lock to Emma's room would be no match for the little skeleton key in her pocket.

Emma's room was conveniently located mere paces from the stairwell. She unlocked the door and tucked the key back into her pocket. Then she slipped into the room and, after turning the knob in her hand to make sure it had remained unlocked, eased the door closed.

Regina could tell before she'd even made it past the privacy curtain that Emma was smack in the middle of a nightmare. She could hear her alternately muttering under her breath and whimpering. A smile played across her lips at Emma's suffering.

Her first order of business was to check her chart to make sure she'd been given a sedative. Of course, she had. Dr. Whale had written that since the patient had refused to sleep, he had ordered the dose to calm her.

Again, sometimes Emma made things entirely too easy.

Regina set the chart back into its rack and crept over to the side of Emma's bed. She took a moment to delight in watching Emma squirm against the images her subconscious was throwing at her before leaning down, her mouth inches away from Emma's ear. Then she began whispering.

"How could you have let Graham die?"

She paused. No, that one didn't have quite enough punch. After taking a few seconds to think, she came up with a better idea.

"You're going to have everything you love ripped from you, just like everyone else in Storybrooke. Not that it matters, because no one loves you. They may mean something to you, but you mean nothing to them."

Emma's sleep became more restless as the suggestions transformed her dreams, tailoring them to Regina's whims. Emma tossed and turned, sometimes crying out. In her dream, it was probably a scream of anguish, but it reality, it was barely above a whimper. Regina grinned, waited until she calmed a bit, and leaned down again.

"You can't save anyone. Henry will see that soon enough and then he'll turn on you, too. After all, he doesn't really care about you; he's just hanging around with you because he thinks you're the one who can break the curse."

Emma moaned again, her eyelids fluttering and then snapping open. When she spotted Regina, her eyes widened in a combination of fear and anger. She tried to call out but, just like Regina counted on, the sedative was already working against her. Her eyelids fluttered a few times as she struggled to remain conscious and then stayed closed.

When Emma slipped back into dream-filled sleep, Regina knew her work was done. Without looking back, she crept out of Emma's room, locked the door with her key, and slipped, unseen, back into the stairwell.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Author's Note:** Shorter chapter, but pivotal! I just wanted to say thanks again to all those who are reading/reviewing/alerting this story. My first story in a new fandom is always very nervous-making for me, so the notifications in my inbox truly make my little day.

* * *

Emma paced the length of the hospital room, arms crossed almost protectively over her chest. "She was in my room last night!" she hollered for the fourth time. Or maybe the fifth; she'd lost count.

Dr. Archie Hopper sat in her visitor's chair, watching her walk back and forth with a mildly perturbed expression on his usually passive face. He wasn't sure which version of Emma was better, the medicated one from yesterday morning who wouldn't talk to him or the irate one right now who wouldn't shut up. Neither was a picture of stability, but at least this Emma gave him a little bit more with which to work. "How would she get into your room, Emma? The doors are locked at night."

"Locks don't mean a damn thing when you've got keys that can open any lock," Emma muttered through gritted teeth. If only she could get out of the damn hospital! She'd be down to City Hall so fast Regina would never see her coming.

"What would she be doing in here?"

The voice startled her. She'd been so lost in her revenge fantasy that she'd forgotten Archie was in the room. "Don't have a clue, but what difference does it make? She was here. That should be all that matters."

Archie eyed her. Back and forth. Back and forth. "You know, the nurses said you were having nightmares again last night–"

She whirled on him, anger glittering like ice in her eyes. "Speaking of which, you were supposed to tell them about those."

"I did," he explained, "and I told Dr. Whale that you didn't want the sedation, but you can't just stay awake forever in order to avoid some nightmares, Emma."

"I wasn't trying to avoid the nightmares!" she cried, exasperated. "I was trying to avoid the cycle of a nightmare waking me up and the meds putting me back to sleep just so I could continue it. Do you have _any _idea how _frustrating_ that is?"

Archie inhaled deeply and held the breath before letting it out through his nose. Her constant motion was beginning to give him a headache. "Can you stop pacing, please?"

"Why do people keep asking me that?" Emma grumbled under her breath, but she did as he asked and perched on the edge of the bed. Too worked up to remain completely still, she began rapidly bouncing her right leg on the ball of her foot.

"Thank you. All I was trying to say is that you had a lot of nightmares last night," he said calmly in an effort to steer the conversation back on track. "Isn't it possible that Regina being in your room was one of them?"

She adamantly shook her head. "No. I know I was awake. A nightmare woke me up and that's when I saw her leaning over me. The damn sedative – which I didn't even want, if you recall – knocked me out before I could do anything about it."

The look on the therapist's face made it clear that he didn't believe her. Both he and Dr. Whale insisted that no one had seen the mayor anywhere near the hospital last night. "You must have dreamed it," Dr. Whale had told her when she first brought it up with him, and it seemed that Archie was sticking with that theory as well. Emma knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she hadn't been dreaming, but she couldn't seem to convince anybody else of that fact.

Another wave of anger washed over her and she found herself idly wondering if this was how Henry had felt all those times she'd made it clear she didn't believe him about the curse.

Oh God. Henry. _Was_ this how he'd felt? Every time he'd tried to tell her something in any way related to Operation Cobra and she'd just given him a patronizing "Okay, sure, kid" and a pat on the head?

Her shoulders slumped, a lump forming in her throat. _Oh, Henry, I'm so sorry._

"Emma?" Archie's voice sounded as if it were coming from a great distance. "What just changed?"

She shook her head, unwilling to tell him. Unwilling to admit out loud that she understood how she'd made the kid feel, however inadvertently. Unwilling to tell him that she hated herself for it.

"Emma, we really need to talk about what's going on."

Again, she shook her head. Her voice was hard when she said, "I'm done talking."

Archie waited for a long moment but it soon became clear that Emma was serious. He stood, told her he'd be back a little later, and left her sitting on the edge of the bed, lost in her zooming thoughts.

She forced herself to calm down. Breathe in, hold it, breathe out. Lather, rinse, repeat. She needed to calm down so she could think.

What the hell _had_ Regina been doing in her room last night? Nothing was missing – not that Emma had a whole lot of personal belongings in the room to begin with – and she hadn't left anything behind.

But she wouldn't have, would she? Because something missing or something newly arrived would have been proof positive that _someone_ had been in the room the previous night. It would have proved that Emma wasn't crazy.

Hold on a second. Crazy …

Oh, holy _shit_.

From the moment Regina sat down in Emma's booth at Granny's two days ago, she'd been doing her damnedest to make Emma look crazy. Why else would she confess to being the Evil Queen? Why else tell her she killed Graham by crushing his heart? Because she knew Emma wouldn't be able to repeat the details of their conversation without sounding like she was out of her gourd.

And Emma had completely played into it. At every single goddamned turn.

Before she had the time to think she was on her feet, calling for Archie to come back. He had closed the door behind him and when Emma went to open it, the knob wouldn't turn. What the hell? The doors weren't supposed to be locked during the day.

She pounded on the door, yelling to be let out, but then stopped mid-holler. This was the kind of thing that Regina wanted. Every time she flipped out like that, it just made her look even more unstable.

Emma unsteadily backed away from the door. Now what? Just bide her time until someone realized her door was locked? That could be hours! But since she was pretty sure no one could hear her unless she yelled, it didn't look like she had much of a choice.

She plopped down on the bed, faced the window, and tried not to think about how she couldn't get out of her room at the moment. She'd never had a problem with enclosed spaces, but she had to admit to feeling more than a little claustrophobic right now.

A thought struck her, and it would have been sickly amusing if she weren't so damn furious. Even in a land with no castles, the evil queen had found a way to lock the princess in a tower.

Oh, sweet Jesus. Emma was even starting to _think_ in fairy-tale vernacular now.

As a distraction, she focused her thoughts on Regina. Specifically, just what she was going to do to get back at her for this whole mess.


	8. Chapter Eight

Henry Mills had called his mom at her office to tell her he was going to the playground after school – a perfect alibi, if he did say so himself – before stopping by Mr. Clark's store to get a snack or two. He'd stowed the candy bar in his backpack and munched on the bag of chips as he headed down to the hospital. The only thing he had left to do was wait for Miss Blanchard to arrive for her visit with Emma.

His teacher had told him that morning that hospital policy didn't allow children to visit people on the floor where Emma was staying but something about that explanation didn't sit right with him. He didn't want to say that Miss Blanchard had _lied_, exactly, but he didn't think she was being one hundred percent honest with him, either.

He felt bad about having to ambush his teacher like this but he really wanted – no, _needed_ – to see Emma. His mom hadn't said a single thing about her since telling him he wasn't allowed to see her anymore, and after a day or so of not getting answers to his questions, he'd stopped asking. He had no idea what had really happened between them but he did know that he had to see for himself that Emma was okay.

Plus, he hadn't talked to her in just about forever and he missed her. A lot.

A grin formed on his lips when he finally spotted Miss Blanchard. He hurried across the street and caught up with his teacher at the hospital's entrance.

"Henry!" she cried when he greeted her. "What are you doing here?"

"I was just wondering if I could come with you to see Emma."

"I told you this morning, Henry–"

"Please, Miss Blanchard?" He wondered if he should clasp his hands under his chin but ultimately decided against it. Way too dramatic. "My mom won't tell me _anything._ I want to make sure she's okay."

"She is okay. I promise you."

He frowned. This was proving harder than he thought it would be. "I just need to see her. Please?"

Miss Blanchard was silent for a long moment, clearly weighing her options. Then she looked down at his pleading face and sighed; she didn't have the heart to tell him to go home. "All right, come on."

Yes! Mission accomplished! "Thank you," Henry grinned as he followed her through the doors.

She led him to an area of the hospital he didn't even know existed. The rooms on this floor all had thick doors with a tall rectangle of glass, kind of like the classroom doors at school. But unlike school, the doorknobs here all had keyholes. A quick peek behind one of the doors told him that they couldn't be unlocked from the inside.

His heart started to race. Why had Emma been kept here for the last couple of days?

They drew to a stop outside the room at the end of the corridor, right next to the stairwell. Miss Blanchard told him to wait in the hallway and she'd come get him in a minute. He nodded but couldn't help tiptoeing up to the curtain shielding the doorway and peeking around it. What he saw made him gasp.

Emma was sitting in a chair beneath the window. Her hair was limp and there were dark circles under her eyes. Red marks that reminded Henry of a burn he'd once gotten when he slipped while climbing a rope ladder circled her wrists. Even though she was whispering with Miss Blanchard, he could hear the defeat in her voice.

"What did she do to you?" Henry asked.

"Henry!" Miss Blanchard cried. "You were supposed to wait outside!"

Oops. He'd forgotten that part.

Emma's eyes widened when she saw Henry. She shot Miss Blanchard a glare, and he shakily stepped forward. "Don't get mad at her, Emma. I made her bring me here." He walked up to her and took one of her hands in his. She flinched at the contact as she once again focused on him. "Did my mom do this to you?"

Her eyes flicked to Miss Blanchard, who just gave her a helpless shrug in return.

"She did, didn't she?" Henry continued. "She told me that you attacked her, but I know you wouldn't have done something to her if she hadn't done something to you first. What did she do?"

Again, Emma looked up at Miss Blanchard. This time, the teacher nodded at her and turned to address Henry. "We only have a few minutes, so when I come and tell you we have to go, you can't argue with me. All right?"

"Okay," he agreed. The teacher gave both mother and son a smile and headed out to the hallway to give them some privacy.

Once they were alone, Henry squeezed Emma's hand and then let it go. "I'm sorry for making Miss Blanchard bring me here, Emma, but I needed to see you."

"It's okay." Her voice was quiet, which unnerved him. "I just … didn't want you to see me like this."

He swallowed hard. Seeing her now, he understood why she hadn't wanted him to come. "What happened?"

"Your mom said something to me that made me angry. What it was isn't important, not right now. What's important right now is that … I'm sorry, Henry. I should have believed you. About the curse, I mean. About her being evil."

He started to tell her it was okay but then what she said actually registered. Did that mean … no. It couldn't mean what he thought it meant. Could it? "You believe now? You really, truly believe?"

"Yes," she said with an emphatic nod. The tears glistening in her eyes provided all the proof he needed. "And I should have done so sooner."

Grinning, he wrapped her in a tight hug. After a moment, she hugged him back. "Henry, I have to ask you something," she said, softly but firmly.

He pulled out of the embrace and met her eyes, an overjoyed smile on his face. "What is it?"

"Do you feel safe with Regina?"

He furrowed his brow at the sudden panic in her eyes. What the heck? She'd never asked him anything like that before. "Yes. I mean, she's never hurt me, if that's what you're asking."

"Okay." She nodded but she didn't sound as if her mind was set at ease.

He wanted to press her on it, but Miss Blanchard had said they only had a few minutes and he had a lot more ground to cover with her. "When are you getting out of here?"

She gave him a half-hearted shrug. "I don't know. It was supposed to be tomorrow, but I might have accidentally screwed that up."

"What do you mean?"

She sighed and ripped her gaze from his. She didn't say anything, and it took him a moment to realize that she was trying to figure out how to explain her predicament without scaring him. "I think your mom is trying to make me look bad by making me look … unstable. And I'm afraid that my behavior since I've been here is only helping to prove her point."

He didn't understand. What could his mom have done to make Emma look unstable? What could have made Emma all of a sudden believe?

All at once, it hit him. "She told you! That's why you believe now. She told you herself!"

"Yes."

"And she knew you couldn't talk about it without sounding crazy!"

"It was a pretty smart plan," Emma had to admit, "and I completely fell for it. I didn't realize what she was doing until it was too late."

"But you realize it now," Henry interrupted. "That's what's important."

"You don't understand, Henry. I've played into her plan every single minute for the last two days."

Henry gave her a sly grin. "Then you need to stop playing into it. It's like you told me before, the best way to break the curse is to pretend we're non-believers."

Emma smiled, one that actually reached her eyes. "It's a good plan, kid, but she's not the one I have to convince. I'm in the doctors' hands, and I haven't exactly made the best impression in here."

"Then make a better one now."

"Henry, it's not that easy."

He didn't have a chance to ask her what she meant because right then, Miss Blanchard came back into the room. When she told him it was time to go, he frowned but he remembered his promise not to argue. "You will try, though, won't you, Emma? To make a better impression now?"

She looked him in the eye and gave him a little smile. "Yes, I'll try." Then she glanced up at her roommate. Henry could see the flurry of emotions on her face when she looked at her now that she knew her roommate was actually her mother. "I guess we'll, um, play tomorrow by ear."

Miss Blanchard nodded. "After I read them the riot act over your door being locked for three and a half hours, I asked them to call me one way or the other about tomorrow."

Emma smirked at the mental image of the teacher reading anyone the riot act, and the three of them said their goodbyes. Miss Blanchard led Henry out of the room. As they made their way down the hall, Henry said, "Thanks for taking me to see Emma. I'm really glad I got to talk to her."

"You're welcome, Henry," she smiled.

He said goodbye to his teacher at the hospital entrance. His original plan had been to go to the playground after the visit so that he wouldn't _really _be lying to his mom. But now he had another stop to make before he could go play. He dug into his backpack, pulled out the candy bar he'd bought seemingly forever ago, and headed for the bed and breakfast.

* * *

August Booth cursed the fact that he only had fifteen minutes with Emma. Fifteen minutes to help her come up with a Get Out of the Hospital Free battle plan.

Fifteen minutes was practically no time at all.

Which was why the first thing he said to her was, "Who would have guessed that the Evil Queen herself would be the one to make the savior believe?"

A half-smile tugged at her lips. "Henry's been to see you."

"Kid's persistent."

"He gets it from me."

"Although, regarding Regina's little plan," he said, his tone teasing, "I'm surprised you didn't put two and two together sooner."

"Hey, I've spent the better part of the last couple of days on one mind-numbing drug or another. How about cutting me a little slack here?" The smirk on her face softened the bite of the words.

He chuckled and sat down in the visitor's chair. She sounded a bit more like herself than she had during yesterday afternoon's visit; at least she was joking with him. But her face was more drawn, the circles under her eyes darker, a paler tinge to her skin. Whatever Regina had done, whatever floodgate this scheme of hers had opened, it was clearly doing a number on Emma.

"You know," she said, bringing him back to reality, "when you put it like that, why would she confess to me at all? I'm the one who can supposedly break the damn thing in the first place. She has to know that when I get out of here …"

She trailed off, finally piecing together that Regina never intended for her to be released from the hospital. "Son of a _bitch_."

"And now you see why you have to get out of here," August told her.

Her head was spinning. When she figured out that Regina had wanted her to look crazy, she'd assumed it was just so that she'd lose her credibility in the court of public opinion. No judge in his or her right mind would award custody of a child to a woman who had just been placed on a mandatory psychiatric hold after attacking the child's adoptive mother, birth mother or not. Now she realized that this little plan was far more sinister than she'd imagined.

Regina had wanted her to languish here, only seeing her friends for fifteen minutes at a time, growing more and more despondent with each passing day until pretty much everyone gave up hope on her.

No, she couldn't let that happen. She couldn't let Regina win, but she had no idea what to do. She needed help. She needed help badly. "I've royally screwed up, August. I haven't exactly been a model patient, and I can't fix that by tomorrow."

He leaned forward in the chair, resting his forearms on his knees. "The world isn't going to end tomorrow, Emma, so stop worrying about that deadline. The only thing you need to know is they can't hold you forever unless they have reason."

She got it in an instant. "I have to stop giving them reason."

He nodded. "Stop fighting them on every little thing. Remember, they don't know that you've been tricked here and they honestly think they're trying to help you. Start talking to Archie when he comes by, really talking to him. He wants to be able to clear you for release; he doesn't like seeing you in here any more than the rest of us do."

"But what the hell am I going to say?" she asked, giving a sad shrug of her shoulders. "Anything I tell him will just make me sound like I've lost it."

"Then make something up," August shrugged.

"You mean lie."

"If you can't tell the truth, then you're going to have to lie."

She wrinkled her nose. Playing along with it all certainly made the most sense but tricking everyone on staff at the hospital didn't feel right. As August said, they were genuinely trying to help her. She had no problem lying her ass off to save a life and she'd bent the truth plenty during her time as a bail bondsperson, but lying to good people who were just doing their jobs? And besides, wasn't resorting to trickery what Regina had done in the first place? "What about the nightmares? I can't do anything about those."

"No, you can't," he agreed. Honestly, he understood about the nightmares. Her entire world, everything she'd thought she'd known, had just been turned upside down and before she'd even had a minute to process it, she found herself on an Evil-Queen-engineered seventy-two-hour psych hold. It would have been odd if she _wasn't _having nightmares. "So acknowledge them. Yes, you're having nightmares but you've had a lot of upheaval in your life recently and nightmares are pretty standard stress reactions. You're sure they'll go away in time, when things calm down."

"But I'm not sure they'll go away when things calm down."

"That doesn't matter."

She looked at him, her uncertainty etched on her features. He was expecting a rant but she simply said, "I don't like it."

"I know you don't, Emma, but you need to understand something. You've been plunked down in the middle of a maze that's been designed to keep you trapped. If you don't start looking for hidden passageways and trap doors, you're never going to find your way out."

For a long time, Emma didn't say a word. She sat there in the chair, staring down at her hands, considering what he'd said. Finally, she looked up at him, a hint of the old Emma Swan determination in her eyes. "I'll try."

"That's all I can ask for." A glance at his watch told him that a nurse would be coming in to kick him out any minute now. He stood and smiled down at her. "Besides, I trust what happens when you try. After all, you're where Henry gets his persistence."

He was rewarded with a full smile.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Author's Note:** I intended on this chapter being fluff for fluff's sake (because every story needs a bit of fluff), but it ended up being pretty crucial to the plot. I love when stories write themselves like that! Also, I know next to nothing about poker, so what you see below is how my dad and I used to play when I was a kid.

* * *

There were not a lot of things for a patient in the hospital to do. Which made sense, Emma supposed, considering hospitals were for convalescing. But for someone who didn't really belong there, sitting in the hospital was maddeningly, frustratingly, excruciatingly _boring_.

Mary Margaret had dropped off a couple of books to help Emma pass the time, but she couldn't seem to make herself sit still long enough to read more than a few pages. Watching TV had become a chore by the second day. She supposed she could sleep, but thanks to her pesky little nightmare problem, she tried not to sleep any more than necessary.

So she spent a lot of time looking out the window. Unfortunately, her window overlooked the parking lot. The most exciting thing Emma had witnessed was a near miss when a car backing out of a space came within inches of smacking into a car driving down the lane.

The constant activity of the parking lot soothed her, though, and more than once she'd caught herself dozing off in the chair. She actually didn't mind those catnaps; she never slept long enough to dream.

Emma had been watching the cars since August left, a fact that made her feel somewhat guilty. She should have been working on their plan but doing so required a level of energy that, at the moment, she simply didn't have. Her eyes had just started to close when a knock on the door startled her back to attentiveness.

_Weird_, she thought, frowning. She'd already seen August and Mary Margaret _and _Henry this afternoon. Who else would be at her door? Unless it was Archie, attempting to finish their session from earlier.

David Nolan was nowhere on her list of possibilities, so it came as a complete shock to her when he pushed aside the privacy curtain. "David? What are you doing here?"

As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. "I'm sorry. That didn't come out the way I meant it."

"It's all right. I know what you meant." He waved off her apology, smiled, and held up a small package wrapped up in a brown paper bag. "And to answer the question you didn't mean, I brought you a present."

Her brow wrinkled as she accepted the bundle and dug into the bag. What she pulled out made her smile. "A deck of cards?"

"I remember how boring it got in here after a while," he shrugged. "I played a lot of cards. Pretty much became an expert at solitaire. I could even teach you Clock if you don't know it."

Emma vaguely recalled an older girl in one of her foster homes teaching her how to play Clock. Karen, probably. She'd liked Karen – who was eleven but had taken an interest in seven-year-old Emma – but just days before her eighth birthday, Karen was placed in a different home and she never saw her again. "I think I know it." She smiled at him as she pulled the cellophane wrapping from the deck. "And besides, you may be an expert at solitaire, but I'm an expert at five-card draw."

When David grinned and dragged the visitor's chair over to sit across from her, she knew he had accepted her not-so-eloquent challenge. She adjusted the height of the tray table, slid it between them, and shuffled the cards. "We only have time for a couple of hands," she said apologetically.

"Best two out of three?" he asked.

"Sure." She glanced around the room and noted the severe lack of anything remotely resembling poker chips. All right, so they'd have to skip the wagering phase of the game. "What does the winner get?"

"Bragging rights."

She smiled. Only after dealing out the cards and picking up her hand did it click that the man sitting across from her was her father. Prince Charming to Mary Margaret's Snow White.

She was living with Snow White and was about to play poker with Prince Charming for bragging rights. And these people, who didn't look any older than she was, were her parents. She let out a breath through her nose and shook her head; no doubt about it, her life had taken a very bizarre turn.

"What is it?" David asked.

Emma blinked. "Huh?"

"You looked like your mind was a million miles away."

"Sorry." Emma gave a cursory glance at her cards and set three of them down. Not even a second later, she couldn't remember what they were. The cards she had left were decidedly unhelpful. She sighed, trying to get back her focus. "I just … didn't expect to see you."

"I know I should have come sooner."

"No, it's not that at all," she rushed to assure him. "It's just that with everything that's been going on … I guess I didn't expect you to come."

"Emma, you're a friend and you're going through a rough time. I'm not going to let you go through it alone just because things are difficult between Mary Margaret and me right now." He set two cards facedown on top of her discards.

All of a sudden, she felt like a little kid being assured it wasn't her fault that Mommy and Daddy were fighting. She didn't think she liked it. Again, she shook her head and tried to focus on the game. She dealt David his two cards and then took her three.

The only thing she had to play was a pair of twos. She tossed her cards down with a frustrated grunt.

David laughed. "That bad?"

"That bad." She turned the cards over so he could see her dismal hand.

"Wow," he chuckled. "That _is_ bad. Which makes it even funnier that mine's worse." He set his cards down to show her four diamonds and a spade.

Emma looked from her pathetic hand to David's even more pathetic hand and then up at David. "Did I really just win with a stupid pair of twos?"

"Hey, if I'd gotten that last diamond, I would have blown your stupid pair of twos out of the water."

She smiled at him, collected the cards, and shuffled the deck for their second hand. She was having fun, which was only going to make it worse when the nurse came to kick David out after his fifteen minutes.

Speaking of which, fifteen minutes was such a cruel time limit. It was barely enough time to say hello properly. How in the hell was she supposed to get by on seeing people for a quarter of an hour every day?

That in and of itself was a new feeling for her. Prior to her arrival in Storybrooke, she'd had no one to miss and no one to miss her.

"You haven't even looked at your cards yet," David spoke up, once again jolting Emma back to the here and now.

"Sorry," she mumbled, picking up her cards.

"You don't have to keep apologizing. I remember how hard it can be to concentrate in here."

Emma nodded. Of course David would understand better than anyone what it was like spending days on end in the hospital. Why hadn't she thought of that sooner? _Cards, Emma_, she told herself, _you're playing cards_.

At least this hand was slightly better than her previous one. She already had a two pair, so she tossed the mismatch. David once again put down two of his cards.

Her new fifth card didn't help but she could play the two pair, jacks over nines. "All right, whatcha got?"

David set his cards down: a six, a seven, and three fives. "Damn," she muttered, lowering her cards to show him.

"Neck and neck, Sheriff," he teased. "Next hand decides it."

They never got to declare a winner because right then a nurse came in to tell David that his fifteen minutes were almost up. "Looks like I'll have to take a rain check on that last hand," he said, rising from his seat.

"Yeah, guess so," Emma muttered, glaring daggers at the nurse's retreating form. Couldn't she have at least allowed them to play the last damn hand? So David stayed for sixteen minutes instead of fifteen. Did it really make that much of a difference? She managed to shake herself from her inner grumbling long enough to pull out her company manners. "Thanks for coming by, David. And for the cards."

"Don't mention it." He gave her a smile, slid the chair back to its original position, and headed for the door. When he reached the curtain, he turned back to her. "Get well soon, Emma. Everyone misses you."

She swallowed hard. "Thank you," she said around the scratching in her throat. "I will."

With another gentle smile, David disappeared behind the curtain.

Emma sat there, staring after him for a long moment. She hadn't wanted him to go. She hadn't wanted Mary Margaret or Henry or August to go, either, but she could never quite put her finger on why. She had no idea why David's visit was the one that made her figure it out, but she now realized: their leaving made her lonely.

All her life she'd been alone. Truth be told, as she got older, her solitary life had been by her own design. No one could hurt her if she didn't let them in; being alone was just the price she had to pay. However, being alone and being lonely were two different beasts, something Emma hadn't understood until right this very second.

For the first time, she wanted to get out of the hospital for herself. Not for Henry or Mary Margaret or August or to make sure Regina didn't win, but for herself. It actually wasn't even a want anymore. She had a life outside these walls and she _needed_ to get back to it. She had people she missed. People she cared for, and people who cared for her.

Emma inhaled deeply and let out the breath with renewed determination. She would do whatever it took to ensure her release. There was simply no other option.


	10. Chapter Ten

The nightmares were different that night. They would start out the same, horrible images and disjointed flashes that left Emma screaming in the dream and gasping for breath in reality. But every now and again, one of the flashes would include Emma doing something to help.

Regina telling her in no uncertain terms to stay away from Henry. Emma producing a detailed record of everything Regina had done, everything that in reality Emma couldn't prove, and informing her she was bringing it to a judge.

Mary Margaret poised to bite into an apple that would put her into a slumber so deep it mimicked death. Emma snatching the apple from her and throwing it in the trash.

Graham falling down at her feet, his eyes closed, his heart stilled. Emma kneeling down next to him and reviving him with a kiss.

She woke from the final dream – where she had finally won custody of Henry from Regina and moved him into a palace she was sharing with Mary Margaret and David – feeling better than she had in days. She was suddenly starving, and when her breakfast tray arrived, she ate every single morsel in record time.

_The nurses won't have the slightest clue what to make of that,_ she thought with a grin. She hadn't more than picked at any of her meals since she'd been in their care.

When she finished her breakfast, she pulled out her new deck of cards and dealt a game of solitaire while eagerly awaiting Archie's arrival.

The doctor had barely gotten out a hello before Emma started telling him about her dreams. Not everything, of course. She left out all the fairy-tale-inspired details, and it didn't take a professional to see that a vast majority of them seemed to showcase her delight at defeating Regina. Considering the reason she'd been placed on a psych hold in the first place, she highly doubted that would go over well. But she told him the important thing, how before the nightmares had left her feeling helpless, even hopeless, but the ones last night had made her feel … empowered.

"What do you think that signifies?" Archie asked her once he could finally get a word in edgewise.

"You want me to do your job for you now?" she asked with a sparkle in her eye.

He blinked in surprise. She hadn't joked with him like that in … well, ever.

"Archie, I'm kidding. I think it means I'm ready to take control now." And she knew that was true. She had no doubt that she was ready to be the hero, ready to beat the Evil Queen at her own game. Ready to give everyone their lives back, the lives that Regina had stolen from them.

"I think you're right, Emma," he said, giving her a smile. "That's a huge step. A real breakthrough."

_Oh, Archie, you have_ no _idea_, she thought. Aloud, she said. "So you'll be recommending me for release, right?"

When he hesitated, her face fell. "Really? Archie, come on!"

"Emma, there's still the matter of you attacking the mayor, not to mention the fact that you're pretty much the first patient who had to be taken out of restraints for her own safety." She glanced down at the marks around her wrists, which had faded some but still burned if something rubbed against them. "Those aren't things that can be overlooked just because you had a couple of dreams."

Her first instinct was to argue. To shoot to her feet and pace the length of the room while spouting off about how having to deal with Regina on a daily basis was enough to make anyone snap. Then Henry flashed through her mind, followed by August. She'd promised them that she'd try, and arguing would not get her any closer to freedom. She forced herself to remain seated and remain calm.

"I understand that, Archie, but I don't know what I can do to make that better. I'm sorry it happened, but it did happen and I can't change it." She paused and took a deep breath, trying to collect her thoughts. "I guess what I'm asking is, how do we move forward from something like this?"

"We could talk about why it happened," he told her. He held her gaze, wanting to make she understood the ground rules. "Really talk, which means full sentences and no cutting the conversation off when you don't like where it's going."

"But I already told you why it happened," Emma blurted out before she could censor herself. Damn it, she hadn't wanted to argue.

"You said it was because Regina told you she crushed Graham's heart."

At the mention of Graham, her brave face faltered. "Yes."

"And you said it made you mad."

"Right."

"Why?"

"Why did it make me mad?"

"That's the question."

"Wouldn't it make you mad?"

"It might make me angry, sure," he allowed, "but I don't think I'd leap over a table and try to strangle someone over it. What made you react like that, Emma?"

She scrunched her nose and furrowed her brow, not quite understanding the point he was trying to make. "Why wouldn't I react like that? She told me she killed someone I …" She trailed off, the realization hitting her like a ton of bricks. Oh, _shit._

"Someone you what, Emma?" Archie asked, shifting in the chair, excitement lighting his eyes. "Finish that sentence. Someone you …"

"Cared for." Even as she said it, she knew that wasn't what was originally going to come out of her mouth. She was going to say, "loved."

Did she really love Graham? Maybe. She certainly believed that maybe they might have had something, if only they'd had more time. She didn't let down her wall with just anyone, after all, and she'd let it down hard and fast with him.

She knew now that she shouldn't have, but then? Then she'd had hope. The teensiest, tiniest amount of hope that maybe, just maybe, it would lead to something good. Something she didn't even know she'd been searching for, but something she instinctively knew would change everything and change it for the better.

But now she'd never know. She'd never know what might have been, and it was all Regina's fault.

"Emma, what's going on?"

She looked up at Archie. This time, her first instinct wasn't to argue but to shut up. To stop the session right here, right now.

Once again, Henry and August appeared in her mind's eye. Henry pleading with her to try, August telling her to play along. She would have loved to simply play along, but it was too late now for pretending. Her body language had given too much away. Goddamn it all to hell, she was going to have to go through with this for real, wasn't she? She took a deep breath and chose her words carefully. "I cared about him, and I think it might have grown into something more than that, if only we'd had the chance."

And that was where she'd intended to stop, but for some reason, she kept speaking. "Now I'll never know, will I? He died in front of me, Archie. We kissed, he collapsed, and she claimed responsibility for it. So, yeah, it made me mad." The sheer fury in her voice surprised her, but it was the tears pricking her eyes that finally made her stop talking.

Archie gave her a sympathetic smile. "So perhaps it wasn't just about Regina pushing your buttons. Perhaps it was also about Graham, how much you cared for him, and that sense of loss for the chance you'll never have."

Emma slouched in her chair, weighed down by comprehension. _That_ was why Regina had confessed to killing Graham. She'd been able to tell, even better than Emma herself, how raw that pain was, how the emotions were simmering just under the surface, how explosive Emma's reaction would be once she learned the truth.

Holy friggin' shit, Regina had really gone for the jugular on this thing. Oh, Emma could not wait to get the hell out of this stupid hospital and go take the evil bitch down a notch or twelve.

She suddenly remembered that Archie was waiting for a response from her. "Yeah, maybe," she murmured.

"We made real progress here today, Emma."

Emma wearily met Archie's eyes. If this was progress, well, she could do without it.

* * *

Apparently, not long after Archie Hopper left to write up his report recommending Emma Swan's release, the patient herself had plopped down in bed and fallen into a sound sleep. She hadn't woken for lunch and had slept through both August's and Mary Margaret's visits.

Regina wasn't quite sure what to make of all she'd been hearing from her source at the hospital. Sometimes it seemed as if Emma was doing better, and other times it seemed as if she was doing worse.

The doctors at the hospital weren't sure what to make of it, either. Although Archie's official recommendation was for release with follow-up appointments, the crew at the hospital had decided that her behavior was still too erratic to be sure. Another twenty-four hours of observation and they'd revisit the decision.

Regina could not wait to be the one to inform Emma of this fact.

Oh, she'd made the visit under the guise of concern, that she'd just wanted to see how the poor dear was doing and to wish her a speedy recovery. She was definitely taking a risk – if she appeared to forgive Emma, then others might forgive her, too – but she couldn't help herself. It had been days since she had been able to play with Emma while Emma was aware of it.

She noted with some amusement that this whole playing with Emma Swan thing of hers was beginning to border on addiction. Ah, well. There were worse things to be addicted to, she supposed. She got to make Emma's life a living hell while having an unspeakable amount of fun. It was a win-win, really.

When Regina pushed back the privacy curtain, she was disappointed to see that Emma was still fast asleep. Her breathing was deep and even, and she looked far more serene than she had the other night. Regina didn't think she'd awaken for a while, certainly not within the next fifteen minutes. Thinking quickly, she pulled the visitor's chair back away from the bed before sitting down, making sure the legs skidded across the tile as she did so.

Sure enough, the sound roused Emma. She glanced around the room, confused, trying to figure out what had woken her. The second she spotted Regina, she bolted upright. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you, too, Ms. Swan," Regina smirked.

"Can it. What do you want?"

"I just want to see how you're faring, dear."

"I'm 'faring' better than I'm sure you were expecting," Emma shot back.

"Why, I have no idea what that's supposed to mean." When Emma set her jaw, Regina laughed to herself. She hardly had to try to get a rise out of that girl.

"It's just you and me, Your Majesty," Emma retorted, disdain dripping in her tone. "You can cut it out with the false innocence. For the third time, what do you want?"

It was all Regina could do not to throw Emma's attitude back in her face. Instead, she smiled sweetly. "I was just wondering how your stay has been."

"A barrel of laughs."

"I'm glad."

"I'm sure you are."

Regina let the conversation drop as she looked Emma up and down. Though it had only been three days, she looked like she'd lost a little weight. Her face was drawn, her skin pale. Her eyes were hard, anger swimming in them, but there was something behind that anger that hadn't been there at the beginning of the week. Something … uncertain. Or maybe haunted?

A grin formed on Regina's lips. What started out as a ploy merely to make Emma Swan appear unstable had turned into something actually damaging to her. No doubt Emma was furious and determined. But underneath that, she was terrified and trying her damnedest to hide it.

Which meant Regina's news would not go over well at all. Her grin widened. "I meant I'm glad you're enjoying your stay because you're going to be here a while longer."

For the briefest of moments, Emma's resolve crumbled and pure anguish flickered across her face. Then just as quickly as it had come, it was gone, replaced with the familiar contempt. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're not being released," Regina hissed, conveniently omitting the part about re-evaluating her in twenty-four hours. "It means that you're stuck here and you'd better get used to it." She stood, smoothed the wrinkles out of her skirt, and looked Emma in the eye. "I always win, Ms. Swan."

She turned on her heel and headed for the door, pausing only once when she heard Emma murmur something under her breath. It wasn't until she was halfway down the corridor that what Emma had said finally registered: "Not this time."


	11. Chapter Eleven

The click-clack of Regina Mills' heels – a sound Emma couldn't stand, by the way – had barely faded from the hallway when Emma shot to her feet and headed for the nurse's station. She asked permission to make a couple of phone calls, and one of the nurses led her to a small table in a corner where she'd have a modicum of privacy. She smiled a thank you and waited for the nurse to return to her desk before picking up the phone.

The first call she placed was to Archie, who confirmed that her doctors had decided to continue her hold for the time being. "I'm sure it'll only be another twenty-four hours, Emma," he told her. "I actually recommended you be released today, but they want to observe you a little longer."

She was disappointed and annoyed, of course, but she tried not to let her voice betray her emotions. She thanked him, both for the information and for recommending her release, and said her goodbyes before hanging up.

Her second call was to Mary Margaret's cell phone. "I know," the teacher said, her voice filled with sympathy when Emma told her she was stuck in the hospital for at least another night. "They told me when I was there this afternoon."

"You were here?" Emma frowned, glancing behind her for a wall clock. She must have slept a lot longer than she'd originally thought if the teacher had come by the hospital already.

She could hear the smile in Mary Margaret's voice. "Yes. You were out cold and actually looked peaceful, so I figured I'd let you sleep."

"Thanks," Emma said, although she wished Mary Margaret had woken her. She'd been looking forward to their visit. She had wanted to tell her about Regina's plan and how she'd figured out that Regina had wanted her locked up for good. She'd wanted to commiserate with someone who would understand.

But mostly, she missed her.

She finally found a clock. It was almost four in the afternoon. Damn, that meant she probably slept straight through August's visit as well.

"Emma? You still there?"

"Yeah," Emma said, shaking her head to clear it. "Listen, I just wanted to let you know that I'm getting out of here tomorrow."

"Did they tell you that?" Mary Margaret asked excitedly.

"No, but I've figured out what I have to do."

There was a hesitation on the line, the space of a heartbeat, and then Mary Margaret said, "What are you talking about?"

Again, Emma peeked over her shoulder. Nobody was around or paying any kind of attention to her at all, but she lowered her voice anyway. "She's not going to win this time, Mary Margaret. I've figured out what I've been doing wrong."

Another brief hesitation. "I'm coming back up there. I don't like the way you sound."

"No, no, you don't need to come up here," Emma hurriedly interrupted. She actually wouldn't mind the visit but she could tell that Mary Margaret was worried, and she didn't want her to worry. "I promise I'm okay."

"All right," Mary Margaret replied, although Emma detected uncertainty in her voice.

She cursed under her breath. Why hadn't she realized how her assertion would sound to someone who didn't know the whole story? That was something she definitely needed to take into consideration; this little plan she'd come up with in no way included freaking people out with her determination.

"Emma?"

"Sorry, still here." She idly wondered what Mary Margaret and David thought about having to continually bring her back to reality every time they'd had a conversation with her lately. Had they even noticed? Had they simply attributed it to the meds the hospital had put her on if they had noticed?

Because they couldn't possibly know what bounced through her head when she spoke to them now: David equals Prince Charming equals father; Mary Margaret equals Snow White equals mother.

It was all just too much. Of course, she would have to deal with it at some point, but she had too many other things going on at the moment to deal with it properly. So she tried to put it out of her mind as much as possible, which worked pretty well until she had to speak to either one of them. Then it smacked her in the face and took her off her game.

This time, she remembered she was still on the phone without Mary Margaret having to prompt her. "I'll explain everything tomorrow, Mary Margaret, I promise. For now, just …" The rest of the sentence tumbled out of her mouth before she could think better of it. "I need you to believe in me."

"Believe in you for what?"

Emma closed her eyes and nervously chewed on her lower lip. She didn't really know why she'd said it but now that it was out there, she was anxious for Mary Margaret's answer. "Just in general."

She responded immediately. "Of course I believe in you."

Emma's heart soared. For some reason, hearing those words from Mary Margaret filled her with a sense of pride. "Thank you," she murmured, letting out a breath of relief, one she hadn't even been aware that she was holding.

"You're welcome, I guess, although I still have no real idea what's going on."

"I'll explain it all tomorrow," Emma assured her.

"I'm holding you to that, Emma."

Spoken like a true mother. Tears brimmed in Emma's eyes and she ended the call quickly before Mary Margaret could hear how choked up her voice had become. What the hell was wrong with her lately? She'd cried more in the last three damn days than she had in the last three freakin' _years_.

Whatever. She could deal with the emotional fallout later, _after_ she got out of this little Regina-caused mess. Right now, she needed to start phase one of her battle plan.

* * *

For the next twenty-four hours, Emma Swan was the most well-behaved psych patient Storybrooke General had ever seen.

She forced down her meals even though she wasn't particularly hungry. She talked to her doctors when they asked, told them everything they wanted to hear and nothing they didn't. She went to sleep without a fight and discovered that she slept so much better without the stupid sedative. The nightmares still came, of course, but allowing herself the proper distance from the dreams before going back to sleep ensured that they didn't continue. She was cooperative, kind, pleasant, and polite, which was something of a miracle considering her patience with the whole damn situation had run out days ago.

Her persistence paid off. During her visit with Mary Margaret that afternoon, Dr. Whale entered the room to tell her that he had started processing her discharge papers. "A condition of your release is follow-up appointments with Dr. Hopper," he told her, marking notes in her chart as he spoke. "We've scheduled you one for tomorrow afternoon at two, and you and he can decide on a schedule from there."

"Thank you," Emma said, although she didn't feel at all grateful. She had to attend actual therapy sessions with Archie now? Oh, Regina was going to pay so hard for this.

Dr. Whale smiled at her. "You're welcome. I'll be back with your papers in a few, and then you'll be all set to go."

After he left the room, Emma and Mary Margaret shared a smile. "Told you I'd be getting out of here today," Emma teased.

Mary Margaret held up a black overnight bag containing a change of clothes for her roommate. "And I told you I believed in you."

With a touched smile, Emma took the duffel from Mary Margaret, set it down on the bed, and dug out the clothes. Then she excused herself to change in the bathroom while Mary Margaret set to work packing up the few personal items in the room.

There were the books she'd brought Emma to help ease her boredom. And here was the teddy bear that Henry had insisted on buying her from the gift shop even though he thought it was silly and he was pretty sure Emma would think it was silly. (She had, but she'd also thought it was sweet.)

And here was … "Hey, Emma? Is this deck of cards yours?"

"Oh, yeah," Emma called back from the bathroom. "David brought me those. He figured I was bored."

"David came to see you?"

"Yeah," she answered. A moment later, she grinned. The mixture of emotions in Mary Margaret's voice had given her an idea.

Emma emerged from the tiny bathroom feeling completely refreshed. Words could not express how wonderful it felt to be wearing her familiar jeans and loose top again. Hospital-issue scrubs were comfy, sure, but comfort was pretty much the only thing they had going for them. They were shapeless, drab, and annoying to wear for days on end. She'd also run a brush through her hair, restoring some of its bounce, and even put on some lip gloss.

She felt human again.

She opened her mouth to say as much to Mary Margaret, but the words died in her throat once she got a good look at what the teacher had been doing while she was making herself presentable. "You know," she said with a teasing lilt in her voice, "cleaning the room behind me is kind of redundant, considering they have to give the room a thorough cleaning after we leave."

Mary Margaret turned to face her, blinked, and then gave her an embarrassed smile. "Sorry. Nervous habit. I'm pretty sure I packed up everything of yours, though."

"Thank you, Mary Margaret."

At first, Mary Margaret thought she was thanking her for packing her things for her. Only after spying the pain in her eyes did she understand that Emma was thanking her for everything she'd done over the last few days. "You're welcome, Emma," she replied, her voice gentle.

"I know I have some explaining to do–"

The teacher held up a hand, cutting off Emma's explanation before she could even get out one word of it. "Not here and not now. There'll be time later tonight. Besides, I don't want the two of us to be upset for your surprise."

"Surprise?" Emma asked, raising her eyebrows. "What surprise?"

"Well, if I told you, it wouldn't be much of a surprise, now, would it?"

"Hey, that's not fair!"

Mary Margaret gave her a sly grin. Emma couldn't help herself; she grinned back. "You know what, Emma?" Mary Margaret said as she slung the duffel bag over her shoulder. "It really is great to see you smile again."


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Author's Note:** And we've reached the last chapter! My typical process of breaking into a new fandom is to do a couple of one-shots to get a handle on the characters before attacking a multi-chapter story idea, so I apologize if the characterization here was a little rough. (Although, if you want iffy characterization, you should have seen my first-draft Emma. ;)) This story was an absolute blast to write, and I hope it was as much fun to read. I want to give sincere thanks to everyone who's been reading/alerting/reviewing this story along the way. The feedback means the world to me.

* * *

After four long and trying days, Emma Swan had finally regained the freedom the Evil Queen herself had stolen from her. As soon as she set foot outside the hospital doors, she turned her head up to the sky and let the sun beat down on her face. Looking down at the outside world had become a source of strength for Emma in the hospital. At first it was a reminder of what she'd lost – and taken for granted – but it soon gave her the first of many reasons to find a way to escape her locked tower.

It was the normalcy, she'd decided. Knowing that the rest of the world went on even as her own private world crumbled around her. It helped her shift perspective enough to realize that Regina could only win if Emma allowed her to win. From there, everything else fell into place, and Emma, with some help from friends, had figured out how to beat Regina at her own game.

Regina. She certainly had a lot to answer for.

Emma let out a heavy breath and, out of the corner of her eye, caught her roommate regarding her with an amused smile on her face. No, not her roommate. Her mother. Yeah, Emma was not at all ready to have that conversation. Maybe tomorrow or the day after. Or maybe she'd pencil some time into her schedule next week.

Either way, that was not her immediate problem; something else was. She told Mary Margaret that she had a stop to make before heading back to the apartment. Mary Margaret gave her a puzzled frown and offered to go with her, but Emma assured her that it was a quick errand; twenty minutes, half an hour tops.

"All right," Mary Margaret shrugged and told Emma she'd see her at home.

They separated, Mary Margaret heading for her car with Emma's overnight bag and Emma heading down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. Everyone she passed told her it was good to see her out and about again and asked if she was feeling better.

The pretty much universal response surprised her. She'd expected people to stare after her, ignore her, whisper behind her back, or some combination of all three. None of them could possibly know what precipitated her attack on Regina but something told her that they all understood.

Emma reached her destination and stared up at City Hall, her heart pounding in her chest. She was livid and tense and everything in between. What she was about to do would either make things better or worse. She didn't know which, but she did know that this was something she _needed_ to do. After taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she stepped inside the building.

She found Regina seated at her desk, working her way through a tall stack of paperwork. Emma assumed it was real paperwork related to the running of Storybrooke. Otherwise, the curse had really screwed Regina over if she got a lifetime of filling out pretend paperwork out of the deal.

Actually, now that she thought about it, Emma hoped it was fake. Something about the Evil Queen constantly having to fill out mundane paperwork in order to keep up the illusion amused her.

Emma cleared her throat and relished the flurry of shock then rage that crossed Regina's face when she looked up from her task. Obviously, whoever fed her information from the hospital hadn't yet filled her in on Emma's release. "So, how does this work now? Do I have to request audience with the Queen or can I just show up?"

"What do you want, Ms. Swan?" Regina asked with a put-upon sigh, her expression finally settling into its typical annoyed yet bored incarnation.

"How's your cheek doing?"

Almost unconsciously, Regina's hand went up to lightly touch the fingernail scratches running down her cheek. "Shouldn't leave any scars."

"Too bad." Regina glared sharply at the sheriff for that, and Emma gave her a nonchalant shrug in return. "Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that despite your best efforts, you didn't win this battle. And you won't win the war."

Regina raised an eyebrow. "The war?"

"You're the one who said I declared war, Regina. I didn't understand what you meant at the time, but I do now."

"Ah, yes. Well, we'll see about that, won't we?"

"I guess we will." There were so many things she wanted to say. So many things she wanted to ask. How could Regina have stood there in the sheriff's station with tears in her eyes and told Emma that Graham was a good man when she was the one who'd killed him? How did she live with herself? How did she sleep at night? Not just for what she'd done to Graham, but for what she'd done to everybody. But the one thing, the only thing, that came out of her mouth was, "Why?"

"Why what, Ms. Swan?" Regina asked with more than a tinge of impatience.

"Why Graham?" The question had come out pained, for which Emma mentally kicked herself. She'd already shown weakness to Regina once and spent four days on a psych hold for her troubles. She'd had no intention of repeating that mistake.

For a long beat, Regina didn't say a word. She stared past Emma with something vaguely resembling regret in her eyes and real pain etched on her features. Which was rather disconcerting to Emma, to say the least.

Then Regina shook herself back to the present. Her usual smirk was back in place by the time she met Emma's gaze. "Unfortunate cost of doing business."

Emma felt her blood turn red hot. Could Graham's death really be nothing more than collateral damage to Regina? Her hands clenched into fists as the mayor returned her attention to her paperwork, dismissing her visitor.

But Emma wasn't done. She set her hands on Regina's desk and leaned forward. "This is the beginning of the end, Your Majesty. If I were you, I'd take a good look around because this comfortable little life you have for yourself? It could all be ripped from you in a heartbeat."

Regina set her pen down, crossed her hands on top of the desk, and looked Emma in the eye. "Is that a threat, Sheriff Swan?"

Emma maintained the eye contact, making her voice just as hard as Regina's as she said, "Yes, it is." Then she turned and stalked out of the mayor's office, leaving Regina narrowing her eyes after her.

* * *

As soon as Emma disappeared around the corner, Regina Mills smacked up a cup of rather expensive pens off her desk. They scattered this way and that, but Regina barely noticed them. Her source at the hospital would most certainly pay for allowing her to be blindsided by the woman's visit, but that was the least of her problems at the moment.

Emma was _out_, and not only was she out, but now she _knew_. Regina never would have confessed if she'd had even the slightest inkling that Emma would find the strength to fight through her emotions enough to ensure her release from the hospital. She'd figured that since Emma was so tightly wound, once that dam came crashing down, the rush of emotion would drown her.

But scrappy little Emma had managed to kick her way to the surface, and now she had knowledge that could destroy everything Regina had accomplished. Before, Emma hadn't been actively trying to break the curse. The curse was crumbling bit by little bit, yes, but that was all simply a side effect of Emma's presence in town. The determined look in Emma's eyes when she'd issued her threat was proof enough; she would stop at nothing now to break it.

This time, Regina's underestimation of Emma Swan may have been a fatal mistake.

However, she would not go down without a fight. She hadn't come this far just to have everything ripped out from under her by the likes of Emma Swan. "I hope you sleep well tonight, Emma," Regina muttered under her breath, "because this is nowhere near over."

* * *

The surprise Mary Margaret had in store for Emma turned out to be a welcome home party. Since inviting everyone under the sun would have overwhelmed her roommate, Mary Margaret had kept the guest list small: Archie, Henry, August, Ruby, and Granny. To get around Regina's new Emma prohibition, Henry had told his mom that he was having dinner with Archie. Which, in fact, he was so it wasn't a _complete_ lie.

The diner had provided the sandwiches and beverages, Granny's way of letting Emma know she'd been worried about her and was glad to see her back at home. Archie had brought bags of chips and pretzels, and August and Henry had baked snickerdoodles per Mary Margaret's instruction while she picked Emma up at the hospital. The cookies had turned out a little misshapen but still delicious.

The party had been going on for close to two hours when Emma excused herself and plopped down on the stairs to the loft. She was emotionally and physically _exhausted_. Pulling the covers over her head and sleeping for the next couple of days, nightmares be damned, sounded really freaking amazing right about now. However, since this party was being thrown in her honor, disappearing to pass out would have been rude. So she had to settle for simply bowing out of the conversation for a little while.

From her vantage point now, watching the party guests interact, she realized that this was the perfect opportunity to act on the idea she'd had at the hospital. With a smile, she headed upstairs to make a quick phone call.

When she emerged from her bedroom, she found Henry waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, a dessert plate piled high with cookies in his hand. "How're you feeling?" he asked, his eyes shining, the grin on his face a clear indication that he was thrilled to have her back home.

"Much better," she told him even though it was becoming an effort to hold her eyes open. She reclaimed her seat on the steps, and Henry sat down a couple stairs below her. When he raised the plate to offer her some of his snickerdoodles, she swiped two.

"Good," he said, "because we have all kinds of Operation Cobra things to discuss."

"Hey, buddy, give her a break," August gently admonished. He joined the two of them on the steps and snatched a cookie from Henry's overflowing plate. "She's asleep on her feet."

"No, he's right," Emma interrupted, hiding a yawn behind her hand. Maybe the sugar in the cookies would help wake her up a little bit. "We do have a lot to discuss. As a matter of fact, I already got started on something. Let's call it a side mission."

"What is it?" Henry asked, so excited that he was practically bouncing up and down, which struck Emma as rather adorable.

"You'll see in a few," she told him, not wanting to ruin the surprise.

Not even ten minutes later, there was a knock on the apartment door. Since Emma had a good idea of who was on the other side, she let Mary Margaret answer it.

There stood David Nolan. Mary Margaret flinched upon seeing him but waved him inside. She glanced over her shoulder, her confused eyes searching the room. After finding Emma and company huddled on the stairs, she sent all three a questioning look. August and Henry shook their heads and Emma gave her a tiny shrug in return, as if to say she had no idea what he was doing there.

Ever the gracious hostess, Mary Margaret put on a smile and poured David a glass of punch. After a few seconds of awkward silence, he asked her something, she answered, and the two of them began to talk.

Henry looked from the royal couple to Emma and grinned. "You invited him here, didn't you?"

"Hey, kid, you have your Operation Cobra, and I have mine." She shared a smile with August before returning her attention to Mary Margaret and David. She'd never played matchmaker before and it was ridiculously weird having to play matchmaker for her own parents, but it was also … heartwarming.

And now she was starting to sound like a freaking Disney movie. _The Parent Trap_, starring Emma Swan. Fantastic.

With a quiet sigh, she leaned her head against the railing and watched her parents until her eyelids became too heavy to hold open any longer.

It seemed like moments later when someone gently shook her by the shoulder. "Come on, Emma," a voice whispered. Mary Margaret's voice.

Her mother's voice.

Like a small child who had missed her nap, Emma allowed Mary Margaret to take her hand and lead her up the stairs. "Tell everyone I'm sorry," she murmured, sitting down on her bed.

"They'll completely understand," Mary Margaret whispered back as she pulled Emma's shoes off, right foot first, then left. Emma curled up on her side as Mary Margaret drew the covers around her roommate's shoulders. After giving Mary Margaret a grateful smile, she let her eyes close.

She heard Mary Margaret's soft footsteps heading for the stairs. Then, almost against her will, Emma opened her eyes and propped herself up on one elbow. "Wait a sec. Will you stay with me? Just until I fall asleep?"

She had no idea why the hell she'd asked that. She was a grown woman, for crying out loud. She'd managed to survive the past twenty-eight years just fine without ever requesting someone sit with her until she fell asleep. Not that she'd had anyone to ask, but that was kind of beside the point.

Apparently, Mary Margaret didn't know why she'd asked, either, because for a brief moment her brow wrinkled in bewilderment. Then she smiled and said, "Of course."

Mary Margaret settled down on the other side of the bed, much like Emma had done for Mary Margaret herself not so long ago. Instantly, Emma felt … safe.

Maybe in the morning, she'd try to analyze why something as simple as Mary Margaret lying next to her would make her feel that way. Right now, she was way too tired. Emma shut her eyes and turned onto her side, facing Mary Margaret. She unconsciously inched closer to her as she snuggled deeper under the covers. The last thing Emma felt before drifting off was Mary Margaret brushing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes and tucking it behind her ear.

That night, there were no nightmares. Only dreams of victory, of a family that had been torn apart reconnecting, and of good triumphing over evil.


End file.
